


can't breathe when you touch my sleeve

by dayevsphil



Series: "clumsy" series [1]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Actor Dan Howell, Alternate Universe, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Getting Together, Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, Slow Burn, YouTuber Phil Lester, deeper than anticipated but still not that deep y'all this is primarily silly, tiny bit of inner turmoil wrt sexuality but trust me it's not that deep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-09-27 08:50:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 59,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20404990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dayevsphil/pseuds/dayevsphil
Summary: Dan keeps making a fool of himself in interviews, to the point where it's basically a meme. Now he's got to sit down for the better part of an hour and sell his show to the YouTuber he'd had a massive crush on when he was a teenager.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey all, this is self-indulgent as fuck! if you've got an issue with silly things full of tropes, take it up with someone who still has shame. next chapter up on friday!
> 
> read and reblog on tumblr [here!](https://dayevsphil.tumblr.com/post/187288012313/cant-breathe-when-you-touch-my-sleeve-chapter-1)

"You're gonna need to do this one alone, dude, our flight's been delayed again."

At least Dan's costar seems somewhat put out. She looks all chagrined and her accent has slipped back into a drawl since they'd finished filming. The FaceTime call is grainy, but he can tell she's tired from being in the airport all day.

"It's fine, Jaime," Dan lies through his teeth, because there's nothing she can fucking do about it anyway. He sighs and looks at himself in the mirror, where he'd paused in fixing his eyebrows to take her call. "Does Patrick even care, or is he just sleeping on his luggage again?"

"The latter, of course," Jaime laughs. She turns the camera briefly so Dan can see the star of their show lounging across his bags with a blanket over his face.

Dan laughs, too, but there's panic in it. "So you guys are really, like. Stuck in Atlanta."

"Yeah," she sighs. "But it's just one interview."

Just one interview. The amount of damage Dan knows he can do with just one interview makes him consider calling out sick.

"It's an interview with BBC Radio One," he reminds her. Jaime's only reaction is to blink at him. This is why he regrets spending all of his time in America, with Americans. They're fine and all, he loves his job, they just don't understand the sort of ramifications that could come from Dan fucking up this interview. Ramifications like, his grandma might hear it.

"It's fine, you're talking to a YouTuber," says Jaime. "You're better with them."

"That's because they're more like people."

"Jimmy Kimmel is people, Daniel."

"He's not," Dan says, adamant. "And Jimmy Kimmel saw me do a fucking nosedive on my way offstage, didn't he."

It's their second year doing press tours, the first they're doing any kind of international coverage, and it's already become a widespread joke that Daniel Howell sucks in interviews.

Give him a script, he's fine. Ask him questions he can riff off, he's fine. But he's easily distracted, gets starstruck in ways his coworkers have managed to suppress, and his limbs aren't friends with his brain. He's spilled iced coffee on many a PA, said BuzzFeed no less than five times during the Wired autocomplete interview, turned into an actual fucking tomato when Lilly Singh complimented him.

He always thought, hey, at least it's mostly online coverage. Not the fucking BBC. He's more comfortable in an online space. And he's happy with it all, since being in a well-liked Netflix original means that he's more or less living the dream.

If only he could stop making a fucking fool of himself in interviews. It's basically a meme at this point.

"You'll be fine," Jaime says. 

"I'm going to offend them and/or fall on my ass," says Dan.

Jaime's lips twitch, lagging a bit with the shitty airport wifi. "Yeah, maybe."

\--

It's a very close call, but Dan doesn't roll into the BBC late. His hair might be a fucking disaster and he might have almost left the house without his left shoe on, but he got here and that's what counts. 

"Hey," he says at the desk, trying to act like he didn't just run here after getting off on the wrong Tube stop. He's never spent a lot of time in London, has barely been back from America in a few years, and he might have overestimated his navigation abilities. "Hi, um, I'm -"

"Daniel Howell," the receptionist says, looking for all the world like he hasn't done anything strange. "Sure, yeah, you're just going to go down that hall there, it's the third door. The toilets are on the way if you want to freshen up."

Dan is fairly sure he looks like a mess, so he thanks the kind person profusely before running off to the bathroom to check.

Yeah, alright. He's looked worse. He's also looked a lot better, but he didn't pack any straighteners or concealer in his jeans, so it'll just have to fucking do. He fixes his hair as best as he can and dries the sweat off his face. After that, all he can really do is make sure his flies are zipped before he makes his way to the room he'd been pointed to.

It's small and sparse, clearly not part of the radio behind-the-scenes. In front of a plain white backdrop, there's just a couple dark loveseats and a coffee table with glasses of water that Dan is already having a premonition of knocking over.

A guy is setting up one of the two cameras, hasn't heard Dan enter, and now Dan is wracked with the certainty that anything he says or does at this point will come out awkward.

"Uh," is what he goes with, wincing when the guy almost knocks the camera off its axis as he jumps. "Sorry. For - that. And for almost being late."

"You can't be almost late, can you? You're fine, sorry, just let me get this..."

"I thought this was a radio interview?"

"No, I mean, I do have a radio show, but I'm not hosting today. This is just for the website and YouTube."

The voice sounds irritatingly familiar, like it's on the tip of Dan's tongue, but that doesn't surprise him. He's probably heard most of the people here on the radio at some point, even with how little he's on this side of the pond. 

He's immeasurably relieved by this not being a live radio interview that his grandma might hear, but he's still feeling weird without his costars.

"Sorry," Dan says again, for lack of anything else to say.

"It's seriously okay," the guy laughs, finally securing the camera on its tripod properly and spinning to greet Dan. "Hi! You're Daniel, right? I hear it's just us today."

Dan's brain takes an entire second to place the eyes, the smile, when they aren't half hidden by a long fringe and bad webcam quality; to place that voice when it isn't accompanied by some kind of weird animal noise. He makes a weird noise of his own once the lightbulb clicks, and he finds himself blinking rather more than a regular human does.

"Holy shit," says Dan. "You're AmazingPhil."

AmazingPhil smiles with his tongue between his teeth. "Last time I checked. You can just call me Phil, though."

He's got glasses on his nose, his hair pushed off his forehead, a corgi on his jumper, and Dan would be lying if he said he wasn't considering just turning around and walking out.

AmazingPhil - Phil - looks _good_. The last time Dan had the time to sit down and watch one of his videos was back in uni, and he'd thought Phil looked good then, too. Really good. Like, put Phil's videos on whenever he was sad and think about that stupid Britney lipsync whenever he was showering kind of good.

Now he's got to sit down with him for the better part of an hour and sell his show to the guy he'd had a massive crush on when he was a teenager.

"Daniel," Phil says when Dan doesn't say anything, his smile softening. "You alright over there?"

"Yes," says Dan, feeling his face heat up. "I - yes. Sorry. I just - I didn't expect you."

"I'm guessing you've seen one or two of my videos," Phil jokes, gesturing for Dan to sit down. "Get comfortable, I'll grab your mic."

Get comfortable. Is Phil having a laugh? Dan doesn't think he's been this high strung in months, and he sits stiffly on the sofa with his hands clasped in his lap.

Fucking hell. Dan had embarrassed himself on nearly every stop on their press tour last summer, still new to the whole process, and the interviews in L.A. and New York earlier this year weren't much better. He's just a massively awkward person, not aware enough of his own body or of the things coming out of his mouth.

He can't even imagine how he's going to fuck this one up.

Phil laughs when he approaches Dan, fixing the mic to Dan's shirt with long, fumbling fingers. Dan's heart does something acrobatic. "I don't bite. Y'know, more people have seen your face than they have mine."

"Probably," Dan concedes in a mumble, hyperaware of his gaze while Phil gets comfortable on the other sofa. He doesn't know where to look. He wants to try and match this calm man to the guy in his memory who'd once put makeup on and meowed at a camera for twenty seconds. "It's not the same, though."

"Why not?" Phil asks, crossing one of his ankles over the other. 

"Well, you're, like," says Dan. He gestures vaguely at Phil, and then again at himself. "And I'm, like."

"Very informative," says Phil. 

"I'm better at talking about the show," says Dan, feeling the very stupid need to try and prove himself to someone he's only just met, really. Phil smirks at him a little.

"Well, you'd have to be."

As much as it makes Dan flush red, he finds himself honking a laugh at the same time. Phil's smirk widens into a grin.

"Don't look so fucking pleased with yourself," Dan says, trying to let the banter relax him a bit. He hasn't fallen on his face or accidentally said something horrendous yet. He leans back into the sofa and smiles at Phil. "Okay, alright. Moment over. No longer starstruck."

"Still seems silly to me, I'm really not that big." Phil laughs. Dan has to bite back roughly a dozen inappropriate comments. "Not compared to some people on the platform, anyway, but that's fine. I like where I'm at."

"I understand that," Dan says, surprised that he's not lying to sound empathetic. "Like, I love making Heatwave, it's fine that we aren't going to be the next Stranger Things."

"Do you mind if I turn on the camera?" Phil asks, those eyes focused on Dan in a way that makes him feel warm all over. "It's just, you're actually speaking. About relevant stuff. So I feel like I should be capturing this on film for some kind of posterity."

"Fuck off," Dan says, and then immediately freezes. Phil only laughs and gets up to switch on the cameras and lights.

Okay, good. Still hasn't mortally offended his teen idol yet.

Phil sits back down and rambles an intro to the lens, looking somehow even more comfortable now that it's on. Something about being filmed makes him sit up straighter and his eyes go a bit wider. He gestures at Dan with a smile, says, "As you can see, I'm here with Daniel Howell to talk about Netflix's Heatwave! This is your first time doing an interview by yourself, isn't it?"

Not a hundred percent sure how Phil knows that, but it's probably obvious in everything Dan has said and done since getting here.

"Er, yeah," says Dan eloquently. He scratches the back of his neck and gives his closeup camera a sheepish grin. "That obvious, huh? Jaime and Patrick hide a lot of my awkwardness, they're good at this bit."

"You're doing just fine," Phil says, encouraging and warm. He ruins it by adding, "At least you haven't asked me when the baby is due or elbowed me in the face."

"Oh my god," Dan groans. He plays it up, throws his head back with it, but the blush is all real.

"I have to ask," Phil says, and his voice changes slightly. It takes Dan a moment to figure it out, but then he realises that Phil is using his off-camera voice now. Deeper, less enthusiastic. "Is the whole awkward klutz thing a marketing ploy? Like, you've been at the center of so many memes."

"I wish it were a marketing thing." He blinks over at Phil and mournfully admits, "I got my head stuck in the doors of the Tube last time I came to London. Luckily nobody was filming."

Phil laughs. It's a really good sound. Dan wants to make it happen over and over, and he has to stamp down on the urge before it turns into a class clown act. "How did you even manage that? I thought I was clumsy."

"I tripped," Dan says, a little more whiny than he really meant to sound. Oh, well, seeming cool in front of Phil is a lost cause by now.

"I trip a lot, too," says Phil. He's back in his camera voice. Dan likes this voice, too, more familiar with it, but he already misses being spoken to in that deeper, calmer tone. "Probably a good thing we're sat down for this, or we'd have to take a trip to A&E."

"Touch wood, mate," Dan says dryly. 

He's surprised and charmed when Phil actually does, reaches out and taps on the coffee table.

The conversation flows more easily, then, because Phil starts asking questions about the show and Dan is finally in his element. He knows the show back to front and he's experienced in the art of holding back spoilers from two decades of finishing video games before his friends did. He tells the same story he's told in three other interviews, about how he didn't know he was supposed to do an American accent for the audition and the character got Britishized for him.

Phil laughs like it's his first time hearing it, even though he's clearly done his research. 

"But you still do a slight accent," Phil says.

"I do," says Dan, mildly surprised. He shouldn't be, but he's so used to people not noticing or just not commenting on it that Phil bringing it up is strange. "I didn't think it made sense for Warren to be, like, posh."

"It doesn't," says Phil, "that was a good call."

"Not that I'm posh," Dan says, because it's important to him that Phil know this. 

"Really," says Phil, dryly.

"Oh, fuck off," says Dan. He regrets swearing on camera, but figures someone will edit it out. "It's not my fault Winnie the Pooh raised me."

The grin Phil turns on him makes Dan briefly forget where he is and what he's talking about. Luckily, one of them is a professional, and Phil gets the interview back on track easily. Dan even manages to make him laugh a couple of times. When he dies, he wants someone to stand up at his funeral and tell everyone that he made AmazingPhil laugh.

Dan even manages not to embarrass himself on camera. He thinks he's gotten off scot-free, actually, until they're saying goodbye and Phil goes in for a hug at the same time Dan goes for a handshake.

"Oh," Dan says eloquently, his knuckles just sort of pressed to Phil's stomach.

"Sorry," Phil laughs. He goes for it anyway, wrapping his arms around Dan's shoulders and not letting go until Dan steps back, feeling so extremely awkward with his hand just kind of crushed between them. Phil doesn't look awkward. Phil is smirking. "I always give my fans a hug."

"Shut _up_," says Dan. He's aware of exactly how whiny he sounds, and he wishes he could suck the noise back in and sound cool, unruffled.

"What?" Phil grins. "I'm flattered."

"I'll have you know," says Dan, "I haven't even, like, watched you since 2011, so."

Phil's smile falters. Dan wants to punch himself in the face.

"Just because I got really busy," Dan rushes to assure him, like Phil actually cares what one bloke thinks of him. "Like, I actually started working my ass off, and couldn't keep spending fourteen hours a day on YouTube, and then it just stopped being a habit, and I got a new Twitter for professionalism so I fell out of the loop with a lot of people, and -"

"Dan, breathe," Phil says, but he looks pleased.

Professional people don't call him Dan very much anymore, not since some other idiot called Dan Howell joined the same union as him. Daniel was a better option than James, and Dan had been going through a pretentious phase that hasn't quite ended yet, so.

He's reminded people at work to call him Daniel before, when they try to get overly familiar with him, but. He doesn't really mind when it's Phil.

"Okay," he says, a beat too late for it to sound natural. Well, self-deprecation hasn't failed him yet. "I'm just walking a very fine line here between seeming cool and also telling you I used to reply to everything you ever tweeted."

"Aw, Dan," says Phil. He holds a hand up to his chest like he's touched. "You couldn't seem cool if you tried."

"Shut up," Dan huffs, shoving lightly at Phil's shoulder.

Phil's tongue pokes between his teeth again when he laughs. Dan wishes he could stop noticing that. "It's nice. I like meeting someone just as weird and awkward as me."

"I'm way more weird and awkward," says Dan. "If I didn't already know the shit you get up to in your bedroom, I'd think you were normal."

Both of Phil's eyebrows raise, and it takes Dan about half a second to realise what he's said and promptly turn crimson.

"I'm alright at acting normal around celebrities," Phil says, blessedly not drawing attention to Dan wanting something to strike him down where he stands.

"I'm not really a celebrity," says Dan.

"Sure," says Phil.

"So you don't have to, like, act normal around me."

"Alright." Phil grins, shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, rocks back and forth on his feet in what Dan recognizes as a nervous tic. "Did you know that caterpillars don't just grow wings in their cocoons? They turn into caterpillar soup and then reform."

Dan blinks. "Why the fuck would I know that?" He blinks again. "Oh, god, why would you _tell_ me that? You mean they just fucking dissolve into _liquid_ before becoming an adult? How fucked up would that be?"

"I know," Phil says, very earnestly. "It keeps me up at night, Dan."

Not a fluke. 'Dan' still sounds good coming from Phil. Although, if Dan's going to be perfectly honest with himself, he thinks Phil could call him anything and he'd like the sound of it. He likes Phil's voice and he really, really likes Phil's voice when it's just for him to hear. There's a part of Dan's mind that exists purely to remind him he's attracted to men, and it's currently clanging pots and pans together as if he couldn't figure it out on his own.

"Now it's going to keep _me_ up at night," Dan groans. 

"At least I'll have company," says Phil. His voice lilts a bit on the last word, like he wants to make it a question but changes his mind at the last second.

That part of Dan's mind that he usually tries to forget about, that part he keeps locked up tight unless it's relevant, is now adding operatic singing to the percussion. It yells, _This is flirting! The hot guy is flirting with you!_

But he can't trust it, not when the stakes are as high as having another conversation with AmazingPhil, so he stamps that voice down.

"Yeah, you can DM me," Dan offers, putting that ball firmly in Phil's court. "Like. When you can't sleep. Or whenever, really, I'm jetlagged as fuck right now."

Phil smiles. "Okay. I will."

\--

Dan doesn't actually believe him. When his phone dings with a Twitter notification at one in the morning, he gets a sharp neck pain doing a double take at his screen. 

Okay, cool. Actual AmazingPhil has sent him a caterpillar emoji. It's stupid how fast that makes his heart race.

He'd followed Phil's Twitter while he waited at the Tube station and had been pleased to see that Phil already followed him, too. He hadn't had time to snoop on his profile or anything before the train came and then he'd gotten distracted when he got back to the hotel, but he's got nothing but time and insomnia right now.

Dan opens his laptop and clicks on Phil's Twitter profile to get a good look. He opens the Instagram and YouTube links in new tabs, since it's not like Phil will know Dan is stalking every page.

**youre really still thinking about that**, Dan sends from his phone before he settles in to scroll mindlessly.

Phil's not very good at taking pictures of himself, is the first thing Dan notices. He checks Instagram quickly to confirm it, and, yeah, what the hell? Phil either doesn't know or doesn't care what his angles are, because he looks more or less average in every single photo he's posted in the past few months. He's not an average-looking guy.

Twitter is kinda boring; Phil doesn't tweet a lot and when he does it's either video promotion or an anecdote that doesn't sound fully true. Dan closes the tab and focuses his stalking on Instagram for a bit. 

It's a good choice. Phil's selfies are still mediocre, but he's got good photos with his friends, other YouTubers, some musicians. There's about a dozen with Nick Grimshaw in some capacity over the past year, but that makes sense to Dan - he's pretty sure they work together.

Lots of food pictures, which Dan can appreciate. Scenic views of Los Angeles, Orlando, somewhere by the sea that looks like Scotland or the Isle of Man. It doesn't seem like Phil travels to many places, but those three locations pop up over and over again. And, of course, London. Dan wonders how long Phil has lived here, if he knows the city like the back of his hand the way Dan used to wish he could be rich and famous enough to do. 

London used to be The Dream. Still is, really. 

His phone vibrates again. **I wasn't joking, it drives me mad. I'll just be minding my own business and all of a sudden I remember caterpillar soup and I start to spiral. Did you know they retain memories from being a caterpillar? How????????????? They're SOUP.** Then, after a couple seconds, **Sorry. Hi.**, with a string of emojis.

Dan laughs quietly to himself. He's still a bit starstruck, but he's also just... charmed. Phil is a charming person.

**that's fucked up and i will be thinking about it for the rest of my short and meaningless existence,** Dan replies, because if Phil can't handle his humour then what are they even doing here.

**Remember me when you're soup,** is what Phil says. 

Dan decides to save his YouTube stalking for tomorrow night, closing his laptop so he can focus completely on the fact that he's DMing with AmazingPhil right now. He bites his lip and starts one sentence about four times before he goes with, **will do. soup will be soon, im gonna die of embarrassment tomorrow for sure.**

**What's tomorrow??**

**buzzfeed uk. i hate doing buzzfeed interviews bc its like theyre waiting for me to fuck up. theyve got whole listicles on my messy ass**

**BRB looking up any and all listicles about your ass.**

Dan feels warmth curl in his gut. He still can't be sure if Phil is flirting with him or if this is just what he's like, and he's also not really sure what he'd want to do about it if Phil is flirting.

It's not that Dan doesn't know he likes guys. He's known that for a long time. But aside from a few fumbling encounters during secondary and uni - and more than a few during his gap year, when he truly felt like nothing mattered - he hasn't let himself explore that. It's fucking terrifying just to think about, and that was before he had millions of people looking at his every move.

He pushes all that back into the box to deal with later, because Phil is messaging him again. 

**You could invest in a belt.**

**they dont help!!!! flat ass problems amirite?** Dan tries to change the topic immediately after sending that, because the last thing his overthinking needs is to talk about ass with Phil. **im also mad at buzzfeed bc they never let me play w the puppies. patrick got to last month and i almost cried i was so jealous**

That's not even a joke. Dan and Jaime had been stuck taking Buzzfeed quizzes on camera while Patrick got to roll around on the floor and play with dogs. When Dan heard, he'd literally started tearing up.

Patrick hadn't even appreciated it properly. Fucking cat people.

**Well, Thor isn't a puppy anymore, but you can play with him while you're in town if you want to!**

Then, Phil sends him a photo, and Dan makes an embarrassing squeal of a noise, because, what the fuck, why didn't Phil have any fucking _dog photos_ from the past three years on Instagram? The cutest Welsh Corgi Dan has ever seen is curled up on a familiar duvet cover with one of its eyes peeking open at the camera, curious. 

**HOLY SHIT**

**PHIL**

**HOW IS THIS THE FIRST IM SEEING OF THJS DOG IM GONNA CRY**

**Haha, you weren't kidding that you haven't kept up with me! Thor is the most popular guest star on my channel.**

Well, now Dan regrets starting with Instagram, but he doesn't want to stop talking to Phil long enough to watch a video. He'll enjoy that personal hell when he can't sleep tomorrow. 

**WHY ISNT HE ON YOUR INSTA**

**Cos he's got his own! Go follow him @AmazingThorgi if you wanna see!** Dan immediately exits the app to do that, swiping up at the notification when Phil double-messages. **You're Insta-stalking me? :)**

AmazingThorgi is Dan's new favourite Instagram account. Thor is ridiculously cute, and Phil seems to have a habit of dressing him up and making him sit in front of plants. 

Somehow, Phil takes incredible photos of his dog. Dan would like to know where that composition and lighting knowledge is in his selfies. He doesn't even know how he'd bring that up, because how do you tell someone they're smoking hot but have some kind of block when it comes to using a front camera? 

When he's scrolled back to puppy pictures and his eyes are in legitimate danger of watering, Dan goes back to Twitter. 

**amazingphil who i only know thorgi**

**He's the best!!!!!! I'm slightly allergic to him but that's ok he's worth all the benadryl in the world!!**

Jesus. Dan isn't sure his heart is physically capable of handling all this new information about a guy he used to know everything about. There's something so endearing to Dan about that, about a man who loves dogs so much that he'll take allergy medication every day instead of not owning one. That's just. Something Dan thinks is very cute.

They tell you not to meet your heroes for a fucking reason, and that reason isn't 'because they're somehow even better in person.' Dan has met a few people in the acting sphere that he was disappointed by, to be honest, but.

Every new message he gets from Phil just makes him sound more and more like someone Dan really wants to hang out with.

And Phil had, in a way, offered that. Dan isn't sure if it was just a lead-in to showing off cute photos of Thor, but he's just sleep-deprived enough to take it as an invitation.

**im in town for 3 wks what is thors schedule like**

Phil responds with a couple of barely comprehensible, excited emojis, and Dan has to bite his lip so he doesn't smile at his phone like a goofball. Not that anyone is here to see him, but. It's the principle of the thing. **He's helping me film sometime tomorrow but he's free all week after that!!**

Swallowing down the minor uncertainty of whether or not this is flirting, if this is a date they're setting up, Dan figures out a time and place to hang out. He's got a day off between interviews this week that he'd originally planned to spend in bed recharging from all the social interaction, but being given the opportunity to get coffee and go to a dog park with Actual AmazingPhil is a gift from a higher power that he won't ignore.

Phil gets sleepy and Dan finds it sweet that he can tell by the way Phil types, his grammar slipping by the wayside and his emoji use becoming a hundred percent incoherent. 

**we should both sleep mate but send me pics of thor to get me through buzzfeed hell**

One comes in immediately, a somewhat blurry shot of Thor's nose buried into Phil's thigh, and Dan curses under his breath. He puts his phone on the nightstand and struggles to fall asleep when all he can think about is how cozy that photo looked, how much he wants to crawl into it and live there forever.

Dan may or may not be fucked.

\--

It's a relief to have Patrick and Jaime with him again, all three of them subject to the repetitive questions and whatever weird, unique tasks are thrown their way by entertainment news sources, but Dan can't wait to get away from them once they're back at the hotel.

He gets himself set up with a beer and some Dominos in bed before he opens the AmazingPhil channel on his laptop. Hotel wifi isn't the best, but it'll have to do.

There's a lot of content and links, and every title is as clickbait-y as the last. Dan could probably scroll down Phil's page for eternity without making a decision, so he sorts the uploads by most popular.

A video of Thor as a puppy takes the number one spot, which Dan isn't sure he's emotionally prepared for, and not far behind it in views is just a video thumbnail of Phil looking bemused and titled _7 SECOND CHALLENGE! (BONUS)_. It really is only seven seconds long.

Dan can't help but be curious about that one. He clicks it, makes it full screen even though it's a short video.

The shot opens on a closet door and it folds open, revealing a grinning Phil. His fringe is soft over his forehead and he's wearing a shirt with a roaring bear on it - this was a couple of years ago. 

"Hi," video Phil says, jolting Dan back to the present. Phil giggles. "I'm gay."

It's not all that much of a shock, really, but Dan's heart still picks up speed as he watches Phil laugh again, close the door, yelp as he knocks into something. 

Something else starts autoplaying, and Dan lets it. A younger Phil talks to the camera about a bad gym experience, and Dan finds himself zoning out for half of the video.

Phil's been out as a gay man since... when was that video posted? 2014? 2015? Dan doesn't have the wherewithal to check right this second. For a few years, in any case, and he'd said it so casually that he must have known for ages before that, and Dan.

Well. Dan can't quite shake the feeling that, if he had kept up with Phil all these years, he might have had to examine that box in his mind a lot closer by now. The word _gay_ rolls off Phil's tongue like it belongs there, like it's second nature, like it has never been a weapon. Dan wants to hear him say it over and over like a personal calming ritual. 

A cursory Google tells Dan that Phil's coming out video was posted in 2014 accompanying a collaboration with Phil's friend PJ, and that he has never spoken about his romantic life since.

That's a blessing and a curse. 

Dan sighs heavily and thinks, not for the first time, that he should really invest in therapy. Then, he lets himself become untethered from reality as he watches Phil talk and joke about silly things in the autoplaying videos. The pizza tastes like cardboard.

As if he's looking at his own body from the perspective of an outsider, Dan takes the figurative locked box in his figurative hands and lets it fall open to sort through some things. Just for a little bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so so so sososoososo much to danae and eve for being the true mvps, making sure i didn't fuck up, cheerleading me on, and insisting i write some slow burn smut for these dorks.
> 
> hopefully i made some of you laugh or at least smile, as that was my whole goal here. love y'all and see you in a few days!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much to everyone who's giving me a chance on this one! love you
> 
> new chapter on monday!
> 
> read and reblog this chapter on tumblr [here!](https://dayevsphil.tumblr.com/post/187381211183/cant-breathe-when-you-touch-my-sleeve-chapter-2)

It's going to take a lot more than a couple of dissociative episodes between embarrassing himself on camera for Dan to, like, be comfortable with everything that hanging out with Phil might mean or might lead to, but he knows he has a bit of a habit of overthinking, so. He empties his entire suitcase onto the hotel bed and tries to find something suitably casual but cute, because he can admit that much to himself: he wants Phil to think he's cute.

Dan spends too long on his clothes, finally deciding on some ripped jeans and a striped jumper just as his alarm goes off. He eyes his hair in the mirror - he can either leave now and meet Phil on time, or he can straighten his hair and be half an hour late.

Shrugging at himself, Dan slips his phone and wallet into his bag. He doesn't care so much about his hobbit hair when he isn't going to be on camera.

\--

"What is that," Dan deadpans.

"It's for vlogging," says Phil, waving the small camera around. He almost drops it and Dan steadies it. "Oops, thanks. Don't worry, I don't have to film you if you don't want, I just always need stock footage of Thor."

"For your endscreen," says Dan. He knows that, now.

Phil beams at him. God, those eyes are like a targeted attack without the barrier of his glasses. "Yeah! Anyway, hi!"

"Hi," Dan echoes, a smile tugging on his own lips. "I was promised a corgi, you know."

"I thought we could get coffee first," says Phil. He puts one of his hands in his jacket pocket, the other still clutching the vlogging camera. "I'm really bad at juggling my drinks and his lead."

"Fair enough. I'd drop everything, too."

When Phil laughs and turns to walk in the wrong direction, Dan allows himself a moment to just look before gently reminding him that the coffee shop is the other way. 

Dan tracks the movement of Phil's hands as he talks about London so that he doesn't keep looking at his shoulders, his thighs. He's so expressive that he almost drops his camera twice more before Dan quietly takes it and stuffs it in his own backpack for safekeeping. 

Phil looks good today in well-fitted black jeans and a bright red shirt under his denim jacket. There are pins on the pocket that Dan desperately wants to know the story behind. It all really makes Dan wish that he'd taken the time to pull the straighteners through his hair, but whatever. He thinks being late would have been worse.

"But you're from around here, right?" Phil says, interrupting his own tirade about the best tourist traps. "You know all this."

"Near Reading," says Dan. He holds the door of the café open, smirking when Phil almost keeps walking right by it. Phil sticks his tongue out. "I dunno, I didn't come to the city all that much. No friends and no money meant I just played RuneScape til my eyes bled."

"Oh my god, RuneScape," says Phil. "Talk about a blast from the past."

They chat about various websites they'd lost their teenage years to until it's time for them to order. Phil rolls his eyes when Dan hangs back, intending to pay for his own drink, and curls his fingers around Dan's wrist to drag him forward.

Dan is a little transfixed by the sight and feel of Phil's hand around him. The barista has to ask him four times what he wants, and he stammers it out like he's never spoken to another human being before.

Phil lets go of Dan to pay, chattering at the tired-looking barista until they smile, and Dan has to put his hands in his back pockets so he doesn't do something stupid like reach for Phil again. He doesn't even register that Phil has stopped talking to the barista and started talking to him again until Phil snaps his fingers in front of his nose.

"Uh, what?" Dan asks, blinking back to reality.

"You were on another planet," Phil laughs. He doesn't seem to mind much. "You wanna sit and talk or walk and talk?"

"Always sit," says Dan. "Unless you can lie down, I guess. Then lie down."

"I don't think they'll let us lie on the floor," Phil muses, taking their drinks from the counter with another bright smile at the workers. "But thank god, I didn't want to walk more than I have to."

Dan follows Phil to a table, feeling a bit like a lost puppy. "Then why did you offer, doofus?"

"Wanted you to think I was someone who walked just for the hell of it," says Phil. He's still _smiling_, it shouldn't even be allowed. 

"I'd like you a lot less if you were," Dan jokes, stirring his macchiato absently. "I'm lazy as fuck, mate." 

"Same," says Phil. "So how was BuzzFeed?"

"It was alright," Dan says, wincing. "They talked to us about memes from the show, kept calling us by nicknames we didn't consent to, and I swear they were just waiting for me to fuck up the whole time."

"Did you?"

"Not a lot," says Dan. "Just tripped. Didn't even fall."

With a quiet laugh, Phil raises his coffee cup. "Well, hello, let's celebrate that."

Dan snorts despite himself. He bops his disposable cup against Phil's and takes a long drink from it.

"How was your day, filming?" 

The way Phil's face lights up when he gets to talk about making a video has Dan's heart doing double time. He talks to Dan about it with the same passion he'd talked about London, gesticulating a lot and smiling at Dan like he's the only person in the room. Dan hears everything Phil is saying but retains roughly zero of it, too busy looking at the way thin lines around Phil's eyes crinkle when he's happy.

"It's nothing too crazy," says Phil, as if Dan has any earthly idea what they're talking about. "But I always get so excited when I can do something more... I don't know, creative? Really put my master's to work."

"Your masters?" Dan asks, bewilderment knocking him back into the conversation. "Think it's a little early in the friendship to tell me about your BDSM shit."

Phil blinks at him and then laughs, loud, one hand coming up to cover his mouth. His blue-green-yellow eyes are sparkling as he looks at Dan like he's the funniest person in the world. "Oh my god, Dan, my master's _degree_. From uni. Where the hell does your mind come up with this stuff?"

"Pardon me," says Dan, "I need to go walk into traffic."

"So it's not just interviews you do this in," says Phil, still grinning. He gestures vaguely at Dan's entire being. "This is just... what you're like."

"Yeah," Dan says miserably.

"It's endearing," Phil assures him.

"So you have a master's degree," says Dan. He can feel the heat in his face, knows he's all red and patchy. He knows he looks and sounds ridiculous right now.

Thankfully, Phil allows him to change the subject with nothing more than a smirk. "I do, it's a post-production thing I spent way too much time on. You want to uni in Manchester, didn't you?"

"I did," Dan says, a little surprised by Phil knowing that. "I mean, I didn't finish uni, but I did go for a bit."

"I grew up near Manchester," says Phil, "so that kind of stuck out when I read up on you, because I was like, what if we had mutual friends back then? Went to the same parties? What if we passed each other on the street and I didn't know I was looking at someone who was gonna be famous? It was a whole, like, existential thing."

Dan's heart feels like it's going to burst, but he just laughs. "Me? Parties? Friends? Going outside? You're drastically overestimating my uni life."

"Guess so," Phil laughs. 

Like it's second nature to keep the conversation going - and as a radio host slash YouTuber, it might be - Phil offers up stories from his own time at university and asks Dan a bunch of questions about everything under the sun. Dan barely has the presence of mind to answer them accurately, let alone ask any questions of his own, and it feels a bit like he's sitting for another interview. He doesn't mind much, though, because Phil listens so intently and is really good at jumping onto new conversation threads at points that feel right.

Before Dan knows it, their drinks are long empty. He could probably get another and just sit here and talk to Phil about video games for ten hours straight, but he doesn't want to give up the option of meeting Phil's dog.

They keep chatting while Phil leads the way to his place. Dan manages to think of some questions and ask them; Phil manages to get them hopelessly lost for a few minutes while trying to rattle off fifteen hamster names in a single breath.

Dan pretends to get a phone call when they reach Phil's stoop. He isn't sure he's emotionally prepared for being in AmazingPhil's flat, _or_ Phil's flat for that matter, and he'd rather stand awkwardly on the pavement than deal with that. It's a narrow brick building, snug in the middle of a whole row of narrow brick buildings, and looking at it almost makes Dan feel claustrophobic after so many years in the boroughs of Atlanta, Chicago, Los Angeles.

He doesn't feel homesick for any of the places he'd couch-surfed or filmed in, exactly, but he does feel a little homesick for privacy from nosy neighbours. He feels like someone is watching him through their blinds right now, and knowing what he knows of the British elderly, there probably is.

All thoughts of America are thrown unceremoniously from Dan's mind when the blue front door swings open again and Phil reappears with Thor at his heels.

"Oh, look at you," Dan coos, his voice going into the soft one he reserves for cute animals and small children. He's crouching down before he can even remember giving his body the command, and Thor gives him a quizzical sort of head tilt.

"It's okay," says Phil. His voice is soft, too, way sweeter than Dan has heard it before. Dan wouldn't be opposed to hearing it more often. "Say hi, Thor."

As if he was waiting for Phil to give him the go-ahead - maybe he was, Dan doesn't know fuck about training dogs - Thor barks once and jumps up, putting his stumpy front legs on Dan's knees and allowing Dan to give him scritches. Dan's eyes well up a little bit and he chokes the tears back as he pets the soft, small, very good boy.

"_Hello_, oh my goodness, you're such a good, good boy, your fur is so soft and pretty and I would fall upon my sword to keep your tail wagging, do you understand me? Do you even know?"

"Oh, he knows," Phil says, fond. "Fall upon your sword?"

"I'm not even a little kidding," says Dan. He can't stop staring at Thor's puppy eyes and perked ears. "I'd legit die for this dog."

"Same, but he wouldn't even appreciate it," says Phil. He gives Thor's lead a tiny tug, and Thor yips, abandoning Dan to wind himself through Phil's long legs a couple times.

Dan grins like an idiot as he looks up at Phil, and Phil grins right back at him. It takes a moment before Dan realises that he's still crouched on the pavement and he's very much eye-level with -

He stands up so fast that he has to blink spots out of his eyes. 

"Uh, yeah, totally," Dan stammers. He has no idea what they're talking about anymore. His brain has gotten tripped up on the idea of being on the floor in front of Phil like it's a record scratch. He's pretty sure that Phil can tell, there's no way it's not all over his flushed face right now, but Phil just laughs and lets Thor lead the way down the street.

"He's way better at navigating than me," says Phil. He sounds so casual. Dan is focusing on not walking into a lamppost. "And that's really good for some stuff, but he also brings me to the park when I'm trying to go to the shop."

"Right," says Dan. 

"Oh, can you grab my camera?" Phil asks as if he's just remembered its existence. 

"Yeah." Dan is thrilled to have a task that doesn't involve thinking about Phil's body more than he ought to be. He digs around in his bag and fiddles around with the settings on the camera while Thor takes a leak. "This is pretty cool. You want me to hold it for you?"

Phil grins. "You wanna film me?"

"That's not what I said, I -"

"Sure."

"- didn't mean - sure?"

"Sure," Phil repeats, tongue between his teeth as he smiles. "I don't usually have someone to help me out."

So Dan films some stock footage for the AmazingPhil endscreen, because that is what's become of his life, somehow. He gets a new perspective on Thor doing various dog things on the walk to the park, laughs every time Thor or Phil do something cute, and feels his heart start to swell more every time he sees Phil's answering smile.

As soon as they get to the dog park and take him off the lead, Thor is zooming off to bark with his friends. Dan keeps rolling and just turns the camera on Phil, who pulls a silly face.

"Is this what a day in the life of AmazingPhil is like?" Dan asks in his best announcer voice. Phil giggles.

"Honestly, no," says Phil. His hands are in his pockets and, despite a camera being on him, he isn't using his camera voice. It's all a very good look. "I stay home and answer emails until Thor forces me to stop working."

"I don't know if I could have a dog," Dan says. "I'm too fucking busy. Aren't you busy?"

"Gonna have to bleep that," says Phil, which Dan guesses is more as an aside to himself, since he doesn't pause for Dan to apologise. "Yeah, I'm really busy. Like. All the time. But I stopped being so careful for a little while, there, during some family stuff, and made a pretty impulsive decision or two. Thor was one of those, and I honestly don't regret it."

"Ooh, what else did you do? Get a tattoo? Join a cult?"

Phil winks. Tries to, anyway. He mostly just blinks a little out of sync like he's got something in his eye. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

The cackle that's surprised out of Dan is not at all an attractive sound, but it makes the happy crinkles around Phil's eyes deepen, so. Worth getting it on tape. He's not even sure that Phil will use this footage for anything.

Dan turns the camera off and slips it back into his backpack so he can fully focus on taking photos of various dogs on his phone. He and Phil migrate to a bench where they don't have to interact with any of the other dog parents milling around.

"God, I love dogs," says Dan.

Phil laughs at him but nods in agreement. "So do I. Well, I love basically all animals, but dogs are the best kind."

"Is it good, having Thor?" Dan asks. "Even though you're busy?"

"Yeah," says Phil. "I mean, do I wish I could give him more of my time? Of course. But having something else relying on me to function has forced me to take better care of myself. I couldn't keep working myself to the bone when I had this tiny thing who needed attention and, like, proper routine."

"They do say that having animals is good for your mental health," says Dan. "Maybe the routine thing is part of why."

"Not to mention the unconditional love." Phil grins and whistles over at a group of small dogs, who all perk up. "Thor, c'mere!" 

Thor happily bounds over to them on his stout little legs, and Dan coos when Phil picks him up, sets him in Dan's lap. The dog seems fine with this development, giving Dan's nose a lick.

"Oh, hello," Dan breathes.

"What do you think?" asks Phil. "Is it worth turning down some work opportunities for this little dude?"

"Yes," says Dan. He's petting Thor and feels his eyes start to water when Thor lolls his tongue out in a goofy sort of grin. "Yeah, I mean - I personally still move around too much to get my own dog, but it makes sense for you. If I had a home base, maybe I'd consider it more seriously."

"Yeah," Phil agrees, sounding happy. Then he clears his throat. "Feel free to tell me off, but can I get a picture of the two of you? You're just so sweet with him."

"Course you can," says Dan. "Tag me on Instagram."

When he looks up from scratching Thor's ears, Dan is taken aback by the softness in Phil's expression. It's gone as soon as it appeared, fleeting, and Phil grins as he pulls out his phone. "I just figured you wouldn't want to, like, make this a public thing."

"I don't mind," says Dan.

There are some people who he probably would mind that for. Usually the same people who call him Dan even after he says not to. They just want to seem closer to him than they are in order to further their own agendas.

Phil isn't like that. Dan has known him for only a handful of days, but the man is so genuine in every interaction they've had that Dan doesn't feel like this is put on to gain some kind of audience.

It's fun and easy to let Phil take silly pictures of Dan, teary eyed with a dog in his lap. It's just as easy for Dan to take the phone out of his hand and snap a selfie of the three of them. And it's even easier still to take shots and short videos of Phil rolling around in the grass once Thor has had enough of sitting still. They go back and forth for what might be actual hours, training their phones on each other like they're just regular friends hanging out.

By the time Phil puts his phone away, Dan's stomach is grumbling loud enough for the whole park to hear.

Phil laughs, but it isn't a mean one. "C'mon, I should get Thor home, and you need to eat."

It isn't an invitation to keep hanging out, exactly, but it isn't a dismissal either. Dan is impressed by Phil's ability to walk a line like that, to keep his own feelings on the matter a complete mystery.

As much as Dan would love to spend the rest of the afternoon following Phil around like a puppy, he has to spend _some_ time recharging or he'll hate himself tomorrow.

"Yeah, my leftover Domino's is calling my name," Dan says lightly. "Then I've got to prepare myself for the pure horror that will be tomorrow's interviews with _teen magazines_, what the fuck, I'm not a Jonas brother."

"Nice teen reference," Phil deadpans.

"Shut up," says Dan. He scratches Thor's little head, looking down at him so he doesn't have to look at Phil's reaction to his probably-desperate-sounding, "We've gotta do this again."

"We do," Phil says, all warm and happy in a way that makes Dan flush pink, bite his lip. "I had fun."

"Me too," Dan admits. He sticks his hands in his pockets so he doesn't reach for Phil, fidgeting with the inner fabric. "Like, a lot of fun. I don't get to do this a lot."

"I figured - and neither do I. Text me when you're done your interviews tomorrow, yeah?"

It's a good moment for them to hug again, probably, but Dan doesn't think he can handle that. The more time he spends around Phil, the harder it is to ignore how badly he _wants_ to feel Phil pressed up against him. 

With a promise to text and an awkward salute of a wave, Dan tries to walk away. He only gets a few feet when Phil calls, "Oi, Dan, hold up a second."

Okay, so he's not getting away without another hug after all. Dan takes a deep breath to brace himself before turning to Phil again. "Yeah?"

"You," says Phil, smiling wide, "still have my camera."

Dan narrowly avoids facepalming by digging in his backpack and muttering apologies. Phil just keeps smiling at him. When he takes the camera back, Phil's fingers brush against Dan's wrist in a way where Dan can't tell if it's intentional or not.

"Sorry," Dan says again.

"It's okay," says Phil. He bites his lip, just for a moment, and then waves with the hand holding Thor's lead. "See you around!"

\--

Messaging Phil is the only thing that keeps Dan sane through the next few days of both print and filmed interviews, the same questions over and over, publications dying for a new tidbit of information so they can be the first to talk about it. Dan is used to all of that, at this point, but it doesn't make things any less repetitive.

Phil sends him photos of Thor and chatters about his own day and generally gives Dan something to look forward to. Dan doesn't think he's ever hit it off with someone so quickly. 

Granted, Dan hasn't actively tried making new friends since uni. He's an adult now, which means he's got work friends and people he plays MMOs with and a bunch of acquaintances on his Facebook who can't _wait_ to catch up whenever he's in town.

That's not the way this thing with Phil feels. It's just as easy as their day together had been, talking about everything under the sun between their various responsibilities.

They talk about movies and television and video games, where they find that they've got a lot in common; and they talk about music and books, where they find they don't have much overlap at all. But Phil listens to Dan's rant on why Janelle Monáe changed the concept album game and so Dan, in turn, lets Phil waffle on about Stephen King in the middle of the night.

The fact that he has trouble sleeping afterwards is entirely irrelevant. 

Dan learns a lot about Phil over these days. Not all of it is good, but nothing makes the festering warmth in Dan's gut start to recede. He's got a crush, and it's getting worse by the day.

\--

"What a cutie," is Jaime's opinion when she sees the photoset on AmazingThorgi that Dan has been tagged in, which includes six pictures of the two of them and Thor at the park.

"He takes crap selfies," Dan tells her in case she wants to snoop Phil's personal Insta.

Jaime quirks her thick eyebrows in a way that makes Dan feel wrong-footed, like she can see directly into his soul. "I meant the dog."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to eve and danae as always!! y'all are so good to me


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: introspection? in my trope fic? absolutely not  
dan: hold my beer
> 
> new chapter up on friday! i don't want to make any promises in case i pull a dan and disappear for 15 months, but i'm aiming to upload every monday and friday 
> 
> read and reblog this chapter on tumblr [here!](https://dayevsphil.tumblr.com/post/187440754683/cant-breath-when-you-touch-my-sleeve-chapter-3)

Dan has been dreading the seemingly-inevitable call from his family, now that filmed interviews are being uploaded and live interviews are starting in the next few days, so he's almost disappointed when it never comes.

Surely his parents know he's in London. There's promotion for his show on a couple different channels they watch, and his dad has always been fairly good at keeping up with entertainment news. Adrian follows him on Instagram, but - and Dan isn't proud of this - he can't remember if Adrian still lives in Wokingham or not. He can't even remember how old Adrian is without doing the math.

So maybe they haven't been keeping up with Netflix shit, maybe Adrian isn't home to tell their parents that he's in town, but surely, _surely_ some well-meaning friend of the family will say something? That's always been the case when he comes to town.

After almost a whole week, though, Dan cracks. He calls his mum. It goes to voicemail.

That makes him panic a little, but she texts him an, **at work ... call you when I'm home x**. So, questionable ellipses usage aside, Dan is comfortably reassured that his entire family isn't dead.

Dan busies himself with catching up on the Heatwave cast interviews he hasn't watched yet. Patrick doesn't like to watch them and Jaime couldn't give a shit one way or the other, but Dan is unable to allow a video of him to exist without knowing exactly what it contains. That's a control thing, mostly, but he also doesn't want to be blindsided by a new Daniel Interview Meme that he doesn't understand. 

He types his own name into the YouTube search bar and feels his heartrate pick up when he sees a thumbnail from BBC Radio One.

Thinking about Phil makes his heart race like he's a teenager with a crush, and he presses play just so he can listen to Phil talk. He can barely remember what he said in the interview, so completely caught up in Phil's eyes and grin as he'd been.

The interview itself is good. Nothing special, in terms of the actual things they talk about, but Dan can feel the difference in the way he speaks to Phil versus the way he's spoken to anyone else - comfort. He had been so immediately comfortable with their back-and-forth, only awkward because he'd been trying so hard not to think about what Phil looked like under his nice clothes.

Dan wonders if anyone else can see the difference or if he only notices because he's so attuned to his own body language, has the advantage of knowing the whole context.

He scrolls idly through the comments and feels heat rise to his face.

Yeah. People noticed.

Lots of comments are just about Dan or the show or the lack of Patrick or Jaime, but there's more than a few that are about Dan and Phil's apparent chemistry. Phil, being an out gay man with no partner and a fanbase, probably has to deal with these types of comments all the time, but it's new for Dan.

Dan shakes his head to try and clear it. He doesn't want to get stuck in YouTube comments and feel impotent irritation every time someone replies, 'uh, Daniel Howell is straight', like they know him. Like he's ever said that. 

He's been photographed with women, because he's casually dated them over the past decade, but he's never _said_ he's straight. And it never works out with them anyway.

Dating girls is fine - they're all softness and little sighs and hands that look so extremely small wrapped in his own - but he doesn't think he can ever be with one for a significant amount of time. That thought is one he usually keeps locked in his mental box, but. He doesn't shy away from it this time.

Even if he could admit it to himself proper, it's easier for Dan to just not talk about it publicly. He hasn't dated anyone seriously enough for it to be an issue in ten years. Nobody needs to know that every time he's inside a woman he remembers why it never progresses past that.

It's fine. It's always fine. It's just, if he's completely honest with himself, 'fine' isn't what he wants to settle for.

"Moot point anyway," Dan mumbles to himself, clicking over to Phil's channel for a distraction. "Not like you're gonna do anything about it, you big fucking coward."

Phil has uploaded the video he told Dan about when Dan was busy trying not to stare at his mouth. It's such a welcome distraction that Dan _almost_ doesn't clock the title and thumbnail for the buffoonery they are.

**IS MY DOG PSYCHIC?**

The title doesn't change when Dan blinks. Neither does the image of Thor, edited to be wearing round glasses in front of a crystal ball. 

"What," Dan says, clicking on the video before any of it really sinks in.

"Hi guys," says Phil. He already looks like he's trying not to laugh. "I know you read the title and you're like, what, but I promise it is not clickbait! As I'm sure many of you know, my grandma had 'the gift', and sometimes I think she passed it on to me. The question is, did _I_ pass it on to _my_ son?"

Phil pulls an over-exaggerated thoughtful expression and then breaks, giggling and shaking his head at himself.

"I know it's stupid, but, I also figured it might be funny? I dunno, you tell me."

It's exactly as silly as Dan expects it to be. Phil sits on his floor with Thor while the dog 'reads' his tarot cards. Dan can see why this video gave Phil a hard time in editing. There are a lot of close ups of Thor and the cards, filmed more like a comedy skit than a vlog.

He finds himself laughing along and getting way too invested in what the tarot cards mean, and he knows first hand how much work Phil put into this, so Dan clicks the share button before he can overthink it.

**tbh watching amazingthorgi do anything could make a believer out of me**, he tweets alongside the link. 

Most of America is asleep still, but that doesn't stop hundreds of people replying. Dan's really got nothing better to do while he waits for his mum to call, so he settles in to respond to some of them. He makes a couple bad jokes, commiserates with some of them over not being able to have a dog yet, and ignores any mention of Phil.

Maybe that's childish of him. He _is_ sharing Phil's work, after all. He sighs and replies to an innocuous question about how he knows Phil. **met during this and then he let me meet his dog so now he's not getting rid of me**, Dan says with a link to the BBC Radio One interview.

His phone chirps with a Twitter notification and he taps it warily, still scrolling through replies on his laptop. 

**@AmazingPhil @danielhowell You saw his face now you're a believer? He'll tell your fortune anytime!** It's accompanied with dog and sparkle and crystal ball and, inexplicably, sock emojis.

Dan laughs, the sound of it almost surprising him. It's impossible not to feel some kind of way when Phil is the way he is, so cheerful and dorky and fun. 

He likes the tweet, but responds by messaging Phil - **do you have me on notif or are you just always online** \- because he doesn't want to add any more fuel to the fire that is Twitter stans. He can already imagine the argument threads about his sexuality that he usually tries so hard to avoid. 

The thought of strangers picking apart something he's not even comfortable with himself is abhorrent, makes him itch, and he puts on some older AmazingPhil videos to calm himself back down.

**That depends**

**on?**

**Which one is lamer lmao**

Phil's voice filling the lonely hotel room and his words taking up space on Dan's screen where something anxiety-inducing might have otherwise been is almost enough to make Dan as comfortable as Phil's physical presence does.

Almost. It's unreal how much Dan wants to reach through both of his screens to pull Phil closer.

Dan hides his smile in his hand, even though nobody is around to see it, and replies, **tbh those are equally lame so you might as well go with the truth**

**I was on Twitter anyway. I really shouldn't be, I'm supposed to be responding to emails.** Phil keeps typing, then stops, then repeats that process a few times before he finally adds, **I should go do that, but you can call or facetime me if you want to keep talking or whatever? It's easier not to type/text while I'm doing emails lol**

And, in a third message, a string of numbers. Phil's phone number. 

Well, that sounds better than using Phil's videos as background noise. Dan shuts his laptop and gets out of bed to fuss with his hair.

"You're such an idiot," he tells his judgemental reflection. It, thankfully, does not respond. 

Once he's gotten his hair into some semblance of order - it's mostly still straight from yesterday, but it got all sleep-mussed and a bit wavy in the front overnight - Dan tosses on a shirt and video calls the number Phil gave him.

Phil picks up with a big grin and sleepy eyes, and Dan almost hangs up on him to stop the heart palpitations in their tracks. "Hi!" 

"Hey, you just wake up?" Dan asks, getting comfortable in the hotel room armchair. It feels weird to lie back down in bed while they're chatting. Phil is at his desk, phone propped up so he can use both hands to type. His glasses are a little crooked and his shirt is too big on him, exposing his collarbones whenever he leans forward. Unfortunately, he looks like serious wank material right now.

"Yeah, had my first coffee already, though," says Phil. "You would not like me before my coffee."

"Barely like you now, mate," Dan says to try and hide his blush at the idea of seeing Phil first thing in the morning. Phil just laughs. It's tinny through Dan's phone speaker, but it still makes Dan feel warm.

"You're awfully chatty for someone who doesn't like me," says Phil.

"I'm only bored, don't flatter yourself," says Dan. "My mum's supposed to call me in a few hours, so I'm just kind of waiting around til then."

"Oh, yeah, you haven't had the chance to go home yet, have you?" Phil's tongue pokes out between his teeth as he concentrates on whatever he's reading. "My mum would be going out of her gourd. When was the last time you went home?"

Dan doesn't really like the way that Phil keeps calling it 'home.' Wokingham hasn't been home in a very long time. 

He doesn't want to get into that, though, so he just shrugs. "Uh, Christmas?"

"Dan," Phil says, looking appalled. "It's August."

"I don't live here," says Dan. "And I'm busy. My family gets it."

Phil hums, a little disapproving still. Dan has to bite his tongue so he doesn't say anything scathing, reminding himself that some people actually like their parents.

It's not that Dan doesn't love them, because he does, it's just. Complicated.

"Do you get to see your family often?" Dan asks, desperate to get the attention off of how shit a son he is.

"Not as often as I'd like," says Phil. He sounds so genuinely sad about it, like he really would like nothing more than to go visit his parents every weekend. "My brother lives in town, so I see him a lot."

"I didn't know you had a brother."

"Yeah, he's -" Phil cuts himself off, then, and gives Dan an apologetic sort of look through his screen. "You don't want to hear about my family."

"I do," Dan says, and he's surprised by how much he means it. He shifts in the armchair. It isn't that comfortable. "Dude, I already know every song on your iTunes, what's so weird about telling me stuff about your family? They clearly mean a lot to you."

He has no idea how to interpret the expression on Phil's face, but whatever it is shifts into a smile as he turns back to his computer. "Okay, his name's Martyn, he's older than me, we work together -"

This time, Dan cuts him off. "You do? I haven't seen him on your channel."

"He's not really interested in being on camera. We actually run IRL Merch together, although honestly it's mostly Martyn."

Phil explains the business to Dan, who feels himself getting more and more awed by the amount of _stuff_ Phil does on any given day. It isn't just sitting in front of his camera and then in front of his computer for a handful of hours. 

Granted, Dan never thought that being a YouTuber was _easy_, or everyone would do it, but Phil seems to add things onto his plate that he doesn't really need to do.

Dan listens for a little while, changing positions in the armchair a few times before he gives up and flops back onto the bed.

"Phil," he says, holding his phone high above his head and making a face at the angle. It's fine, really, Phil has barely been glancing at him this whole time. Now that Dan has some kind of idea about the number of people Phil works with, he gets the hours of emails thing. "Do you ever take a break? Hang out with your friends?"

"What friends?" Phil jokes, but Dan senses there's some truth behind it. 

"Okay, first of all," says Dan, "big mood."

Phil's laugh seems like it's surprised out of him, and his eyes flick to his phone again. They linger on Dan for a long moment before turning away again. Although, to be fair, that may be lag from shitty hotel wifi. "Is it?"

"Yeah, man, like I've got any fucking friends. Second of all, you need to take some breaks or you're going to burn the fuck out." 

"Trust me, I know," says Phil.

"I know Thor already reminds you to take breaks," says Dan. "But he can't force you to. I can."

"You're gonna force me to take breaks?" Phil hums, his eyebrows raising. "How exactly are you going to manage that when you're back in Atlanta?"

"I can be very annoying with nothing but an internet connection," Dan promises. "You wanna see?"

"No, no, I believe you, and I need to get this done, please don't."

They both laugh, quiet, and Dan curls up on his side to just watch Phil work for a little while. Phil runs his fingers through his hair every so often and mouths along to whatever he types. Dan has no idea how one person can simultaneously be the hottest _and_ the most adorable thing ever.

"I have a brother too," Dan offers.

"Do you?" Phil asks, more surprised than Dan expects him to be. "That's not on your Wikipedia."

"He doesn't like the attention," says Dan. It's a half-truth. Most of what he says about his family are half-truths. "But you're not, like, a stan account or the media or whatever."

"Technically, I am both," Phil jokes. "I'll keep it to myself, though, don't worry."

Dan isn't worried. He trusts Phil not to go blabbing about him on the radio, even with something as small as Adrian's existence.

It feels a little strange to trust someone so immediately, and part of Dan wants to pull back, put some distance between them, because the combination of trust and a deepening crush can only spell disaster. He's not going to do that. He's only got Phil nearby for another two weeks.

After they've finished their media circus in London, then Edinburgh, then Dublin, Dan is off to France with Patrick and Jaime. They're only hitting a handful of international media press, but that's more than they were asked to do last year. It's exciting to be expanding this way, to have something to point to and say, 'I did that before I was 30'.

And when they're done with the press tour, Dan... goes home. Back to Atlanta, where his apartment is being sublet during his summer travelling.

They don't even know yet if Heatwave will get a fourth season. It's a bit of an industry joke that Netflix shows rarely make it past the third. Dan doesn't even want to consider how Atlanta will feel without a steady filming job down the street.

Probably not much like home. Nowhere feels all that much like home, if Dan's honest.

"Hey, you still with me?" 

Dan blinks away the doom and gloom of his uncertain future and refocuses on the conversation he's supposed to be a part of. Phil is looking at him now, the sort of undivided attention that makes Dan's cheeks burn.

"Yeah, sorry," says Dan. "I'm still here. Have you made a dent in those emails?"

Not the most graceful change of subject, but Phil allows it with a small snort. "No, for I am Sisyphus, doomed to answer a dozen emails only for another dozen to arrive."

"Maybe if you didn't have, like, three jobs, this wouldn't be a problem," Dan points out. "I get maybe two important emails a day. It's great."

"Maybe," says Phil. He's still just looking at Dan, his chin resting on an open palm.

"What?" Dan asks, feeling a smile tug at his lips.

Phil smiles back, brighter. "Nothing."

There's a warmth in his face, visible even through the mediocre FaceTime quality, that makes Dan's stomach twist all up in knots. He doesn't know how to handle that at all. "My mum's calling I gotta go bye," he says in one breath, hanging up before Phil can even react.

While he waits for his heart to stop pounding, Dan stares at the hotel ceiling and wonders what the fuck is wrong with him.

\--

Dan's mum does call, eventually. He's been fucking around on Guild Wars and cursing the wifi for god only knows how long, refusing to check his phone so he doesn't have to be faced with another message - or the lack of one - from Phil. Dan finishes the raid and then calls his mum back.

"Daniel, hi," she says, sounding frazzled in the way she always seems to.

"Hey, mum." It feels weird, now that he's got her on the phone, but he pushes past that discomfort. "I was just calling to let you know that I'm in London."

The sound of a door slamming comes through before his mum says, "Well, yes, dear. I know that."

She doesn't sound upset with him. More than anything, she sounds confused. Like she doesn't know why he's even telling her this. Like it hasn't even occurred to her to nag her son for a visit. Dan has to swallow past a lump in his throat, not sure why he wishes she was angry. 

"Oh," he says. Allows a long moment of quiet to pass, just in case she wants to explain herself. She doesn't. "Well. Okay. Do you - are you busy weekend after next? I could come see you before we leave for the continent."

"That's quite short notice, dear," his mum says, and Dan experiences a dizzying rush of relief and distress before she continues. "But I'm sure I can make some time for dinner."

Dan exhales. Dinner. He can do dinner.

"That sounds good," he says. Another half-truth. "I'll text you?"

"Yes, yes," his mum says, already sounding distracted. "Text me and we'll make a proper plan. Work hard til then, okay? I love you."

"I love you too. Bye."

The call ends almost as abruptly as his call with Phil, but Dan is okay with that.

**im going to see my fam before i leave england jsyk**, Dan texts to Phil. Phil sends him celebratory emojis in response. And maybe dinner with his family will be horrible, maybe it will be great, most likely it will be slightly uncomfortable, but at least he isn't disappointing Phil on top of everyone else he's let down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to eve and danae as always; and thank you to everyone who is keeping up with this fic! i know it isn't anything groundbreaking, and it makes me so happy to see that it's making other people happy.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love and appreciate every single one of you
> 
> new chapter on monday!
> 
> read and reblog this chapter on tumblr [here!](https://dayevsphil.tumblr.com/post/187538758553/cant-breathe-when-you-touch-my-sleeve-chapter-4)

**i want to die**

**Aw, what happened? Did you give SugarScape spoilers?**

Despite Dan's horrible mood, that makes him snort. **no you buffoon 1 sugarscape has been dead for yrs, much like how i would like to be 2 i don't say spoilers ever 3 it's WORSE**

**I may be a little out of the loop. You gonna make me guess? I'm sure it wasn't as bad as you think it was.**

**phil**, Dan sends on its own for emphasis. **i touched my coworkers tit on live telly and now i can't look her in the fucking eye**

Jaime hadn't actually cared much. She'd laughed at him, made some jokes about how Dan's spatial awareness hadn't developed yet, and then moved on with grace. Meanwhile, Dan had been having a mild panic attack on his side of the sofa because all he'd meant to do was brush a distracting piece of lint off Jaime's shoulder and, somehow, drastically missed.

It was all of ten seconds of his life, and Dan is still freaking out about it. He's been pacing his hotel room since they got back, hasn't even bothered changing out of the nice shirt he'd worn for the interview.

**Like accidentally?** Phil finally replies on Dan's third lap of the room.

**no phil i need to grope people on camera to finish. what kind of person do you think i am. YES ACCIDENTALLY.**

**I dunno what you're into. I'm sure she knew it was an accident?**

Yes, Jaime knows it was an accident, but that's not the point. **there will be gifs phil**

Phil sends him some emojis, only some of which make any sense in context. Dan isn't sure why that calms him down so much. He sits on the edge of his bed and sighs, waiting for Phil to stop typing. It takes a while, but eventually Phil says, **Then you'll deal with them. It honestly can't be worse than you falling off the Jimmy Kimmel stage? I swear I saw that gif for months before I knew who you were. And if you're worried about people saying you did it on purpose, tell Jaime. You can talk about it like adults.**

It's all laid out very clearly, and while it does make Dan feel better, he doesn't think he's finished being dramatic yet. He checks the time and sighs heavily.

**dont suppose you'd be up for a late lunch/early dinner to distract me??**

**Sure! :)**, Phil responds immediately. The quickness of his agreement makes that part of Dan's brain start shouting again. **I'm actually filming today though. I'll be done in like half an hour if you want to meet me here? Then we can either get takeaway or go out?**

It's truly fascinating to Dan how practiced Phil seems to be at giving someone options and pretending like either one is fine rather than just offering his own opinion on the matter. 

After assuring Phil that he'll be there, Dan considers getting changed. He's only got fifteen if he wants to get to Phil's place on time, and he isn't exactly known for his quick wardrobe decisions. 

In the end, Dan just swaps his nice shoes for some sneakers and rolls his sleeves up. He's a little overdressed still, a McQueen button-down maybe a little too fancy for just hanging out with a new friend, but. He doesn't want to be late. Besides, he looks good. Maybe he likes the idea of Phil being surprised, looking him up and down, having the interview as an excuse to be so dressed up.

The part of Dan's brain that exists to remind him that men are attractive has been so, so loud this week. It's been impossible to ignore.

Dan messes with his straightened fringe until his phone beeps, telling him his Uber is outside. He remembers where Phil lives, in the very vaguest sense, but has to get the exact address from Phil.

He's glad that Phil's front door is painted a specific sort of blue. It would be just Dan's luck to knock on the wrong narrow brick building.

Thor barks, somewhere inside, and Dan shoves his hands in his jean pockets as he waits for Phil to answer the door.

"Hey!" Phil greets him before he's even fully opened the door, beaming. To the great pleasure of Dan's ego, Phil's eyebrows raise as he looks Dan over. "Y'know, you could have changed. I wouldn't have minded waiting a bit."

"Feeling underdressed?" Dan teases.

"A little," says Phil. He pushes his glasses up and gestures at his own graphic tee and slippered feet. "If I'd known there was a dress code, I'd have put on a sports coat."

"You look fine, I was just impatient," says Dan. He waits for another beat. "Uh, can I... come in?"

Phil is giving him a smile, the one with deep eye crinkles and his tongue trapped in his teeth, but it drops as he realises that they've just been standing in his doorway. "Oh! Yeah, sorry, come in. I'm actually not done filming just yet, Thor distracted me. Shouldn't take long."

"What are you filming?" Dan asks curiously, his heart pounding a bit as he follows Phil inside and then, surprisingly, downstairs. "Wait, you're the basement flat? Your video lighting is so good, though!"

"Mostly artificial," says Phil. He sounds wistful. "Someday I'll have a place with a glass window, just you wait."

"What are your windows made of now?"

"What? They're made of glass."

"Then why would you need to wait for one?"

"What did I say?"

"Glass window," says Dan, fighting back giggles. They reach the basement door and Phil lets them in, giving Dan a sheepish sort of smile over his shoulder.

"I meant a glass wall. Like a wall of windows, y'know? That's the dream."

"Yeah, it is," Dan agrees, but he's distracted by the fact that he's in Phil's flat. He kicks his shoes off among the pile next to the door and looks around. "It feels super weird to be seeing this place in 3D."

"Oh, probably," Phil laughs. "You want some slippers? My feet get so cold down here, I've got like a dozen pairs."

"I'm alright."

Phil's flat has less natural light than Dan had expected - or, evidently, than Phil would prefer - but the sheer number of lamps, string lights, and scented candles scattered around the place give it a soft glow that Dan is a big fan of. There are bright colours on every surface and every wall, and the overall effect isn't as overwhelming as it could be. Dan still thinks it could be edited down, but. It's very Phil.

To his vague surprise, he sees Phil's bed pushed against the far wall, a backless bookshelf the only divider from the open living space. Box lights and camera are all set up at the side of his bed. 

"If I didn't know what you did for a living," says Dan, gesturing at the setup.

Phil grins at him. "Yeah. My landlord still doesn't believe that I _don't_ make porn. You want a drink?"

"Sure, whatever you're having," says Dan. He spots Thor, curled up on a fluffy dog bed in the corner, and immediately starts cooing. "Oh, there you are! Hello!"

Thor perks up, cocking his head to the side, and Dan gets on the floor to call him over. Within seconds, he ends up on his back with an armful of happy puppy, and he giggles helplessly as Thor licks all over his face.

"Thor, down," Phil says from somewhere above them, sounding amused. Thor backs off, winding through Phil's legs a couple of times before he trots back to his bed.

"I love him," Dan informs Phil, still flat on his back. It's not the most flattering angle to look up at Phil, but he can deal.

"So do I," says Phil. He holds up a glass. "Ribena?"

"Please," says Dan, standing back up to accept the drink. He suddenly feels very weird, standing in the middle of Phil's lounge slash dining area slash kitchen slash bedroom. "Er, you've still got to finish filming, yeah? I can just... sit."

With a small grin, Phil waves at his sofa. "Make yourself at home. Just try not to rile Thor up too much? He's already made my blooper reel longer than the video itself."

"I think I can handle that."

Dan cannot, in fact, handle it. He brings his Ribena to the floor so he can sit next to the dog bed and scratch all of Thor's favourite spots. He finds one of Thor's toys as he listens to Phil wrap up a story that sounds maybe ten percent true, and then - well. It progresses to a tug of war before Dan can even entertain the idea that this might be distracting to Phil.

"Dan," Phil says, in this tone like he's trying to sound stern but can't stop smiling. "Are you growling at Thor?"

Yes. "Maybe."

"Maybe? I'm literally filming right now."

"He's just so cute," Dan whines.

"I know he is," says Phil. "I deal with this struggle every day of my life."

Dan sighs and lets Thor have the rope, watching wistfully as he zooms off with it. "Sorry, I'm really not trying to be a dick. I know this is your job."

"Hey, no," says Phil, suddenly sounding much closer. Dan looks up from corgi-watching to see Phil leaning against one side of his shelves, hands in his pockets and a soft smile playing around his lips. Butterflies erupt somewhere in Dan's belly. "I'm not bothered, really. I think it's cute. I just also, y'know, would like to eat sometime today."

"Why don't I just order something?" Dan suggests.

"Alright," Phil hums. "I'm lactose intolerant and hate mushrooms, but the intolerance can be ignored for pizza if that's what you want."

If that's what Dan wants. "What do you want?"

Phil blinks. "Oh, whatever."

"No," Dan presses. He knows it isn't very good manners, but he wants to see if Phil will actually offer an opinion of his own instead of walking that thin line of indifference. "I will quite literally eat anything. You pick."

It's quiet for a moment while Phil thinks it over, only the hum of the refrigerator and Thor's little huffs of breath for background noise. Dan has to admit that the small basement windows have an upside - less traffic din is able to get through. Coupled with the way Phil has lit his flat, the atmosphere makes Dan feel comfortable, like he could curl up here and just stay. 

The rug under Dan is soft, the Ribena is perfectly watered down, and he's got a cute dog and a cute boy to stare at. He really could sit here forever and be content.

"I feel like Chinese," Phil says eventually. He's chewing on his lip, and Dan realises he hasn't seen Phil look so... anxious.

"Chinese sounds great," says Dan. "I'll order."

Phil seems relieved that he hasn't accidentally made a horrible choice or something, and he goes back to filming while Dan fucks around on different apps to find the best Chinese place in Phil's area.

\--

"You never actually told me how you managed to grope someone."

Dan, who had gotten all wrapped up in chow mein and MasterChef and had forgotten his hellish morning by this point, chokes on air.

"Oh my god, nooooo," he groans, covering his face with both hands and sinking further into the sofa. He hears Phil laugh. "She just! Had some fucking, like, fluff on her shoulder. Like lint. I was gonna brush it off."

"How did you fuck that up so hard?" Phil asks. He sounds so amused that Dan wants to keep hiding, but the curse has him peeking out between his fingers curiously.

"I've never heard you swear," says Dan.

"I don't," says Phil, "on YouTube."

Unfortunately for Dan, the sound of Phil swearing is very hot. He groans again, overdramatic to cover up his very real blush, and gesticulates wildly. "My limbs are not friends with my brain, okay, I've got very big hands and I misjudged where I was putting one of them."

"Yeah, you do." Phil's eyes track Dan's hands with an intensity that makes Dan's gut constrict. Then he blinks, meets Dan's eye again, and the look is gone. "That sucks. I get it, though, my body and brain are not on the same frequency at all."

Dan thinks, a little hysterically, that this is a very good reason not to try and have sex with AmazingPhil - he doesn't want to end up in A&E.

There are roughly a hundred other reasons, too. Dan's uncertainty about his own identity, the fact that he's only in the UK for another two weeks, and the very real bond that they've been forming as friends are all at the forefront of his mind. Even so, it helps to make a joke to himself about it. 

"Have you ever touched a tit accidentally?" Dan asks dryly.

"I've never touched a tit at all," says Phil. He's drinking coffee despite the hour hurtling into evening quickly, and Dan has to wonder if he ever sleeps. "Not really my wheelhouse."

"They're fine," Dan says, with much less enthusiasm than he normally would. He can't sit here and talk about his boob opinions with Phil, though, because that way lies madness. So he changes the subject, talks loudly about the episode of MasterChef they're on.

He's not ready to come out properly to himself, let alone to someone he barely knows.

Well, okay. It would be more accurate to say 'just met', because Dan feels like he _does_ know Phil fairly well at this point. At least as well as he knows Jaime or Patrick. And maybe that's more of a commentary on how shit a coworker he is, how bad at making friends he is, but whatever. The point is that he likes spending time with Phil a lot, and he wants to do it more, but he can't have that conversation yet.

Dan knows he's attracted to guys. When he was younger and had an even worse handle on himself, that attraction would either lead to fumbling, fearing for his safety, or both.

Right now, specifically, he is attracted to Phil. This feels different, because he's got no reason to fear Phil or to immediately jump him, he's just comfortable sitting next to Phil in the dim light and letting the warmth of the feelings settle in his chest. 

Maybe someday he'll be ready to tell Phil that he likes guys. Maybe that'll even go somewhere. For now, Dan is going to trash talk the chefs like he knows what he's talking about and settle into Phil's sofa and laugh like he belongs there.

Dan gets a little too comfortable. He has no idea what time it is when his eyes start to droop, but he's sure it's unreasonably early for someone who goes to sleep in the wee hours of morning most of the time.

A hand on his shoulder jerks him back into full awareness, and Dan blinks over at Phil. "Whuh?"

"Hey," says Phil. He's smiling and his voice is low. Dan can feel the slight chill of Phil's palm through the thin material of his dress shirt.

It's overwhelming, suddenly, how much Dan wants to lean in to Phil. The itch under his skin that he would feel ten years or so ago, the restless, guilty _want_ that had him falling into bed with whatever bloke would let him, is thrumming through him with an intensity he hasn't prepared for. Dan's tongue feels heavy, and his gaze drops to Phil's mouth before he can stop it.

"Hey," echoes Dan, a beat or two late.

"You're falling asleep," Phil says. There's something about his tone that Dan can't quite place, so focused on his own emotions as he is. "You wanna stay over?"

Dan really, really does. But he really, really, _really_ shouldn't.

"I can't," he says, not bothering to hide how regretful it makes him to turn the offer down. "Breakfast telly or whatever in the morning."

The loss of Phil's hand on Dan is one that he thinks he'll be feeling until Phil touches him again. "Of course. You probably have to wake up ridiculously early for that, huh?" 

"Unfortunately."

Dan orders himself an Uber and slides to the floor with Thor in order to stop himself from giving his body what it wants in the short amount of time before it arrives. Thor likes the attention, and when Dan glances up to see the soft, unguarded look in Phil's eye, he thinks that Phil probably doesn't mind being ditched for his dog.

They chat about MasterChef and Dan's upcoming interview for a few minutes, safe topics, and Dan is disappointed when his phone beeps with the notification that his driver is close. He doesn't actually want to leave, he just knows he has to.

"We have to do this again before you head up to Edinburgh," says Phil. He walks Dan to the door, which is a little pointless - it's a total of eight steps away.

"How'd you know we're going to Edinburgh this weekend?" Dan asks, distracted from the process of getting his shoes on.

"Been in the business a while, lucky guess."

"Right. Well, then, I'll have to see what I'm doing on Friday."

"Yeah, just message me," says Phil.

There's a moment after Dan gets his shoes on where they're both just standing there looking at each other, and Dan's heart starts pounding like he's getting chased.

"I'll see you Friday," Dan says quietly, even though he isn't sure that he's free. He just needs to say _something_. His phone beeps again, probably telling him the driver is outside, and Dan is both relieved and annoyed.

Phil opens his mouth to say something, but Dan's racing heart and anxious mind doesn't want to hear whatever it is. He steps forward and wraps his arms around Phil's waist in a tight goodbye hug. It's the sort of embrace he'd give any of his friends, nothing overly intimate, but he knows he'll be thinking about it later anyway.

When Phil's arms drape over Dan's shoulders and his thumb brushes deliberate circles over the back of Dan's neck, it hits Dan very suddenly that if he were to try and kiss Phil right now, Phil would let him. That kind of knowledge is intoxicating, the surety of it making Dan's head swim.

But. He still doesn't know for sure what he wants, and his Uber is waiting. So he just pulls away, says goodnight, leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE thanks to eve for all the help and motivation and another huge thanks to danae for putting up with my out-of-context screenshots of random parts of this to see if any of it made sense and a third huge thanks to all of you for reading!!!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! i hope you're enjoying the slow burn as much as i'm enjoying writing it, which is to say: i am impatient and frazzled just like the rest of you
> 
> new chapter on friday!
> 
> read and reblog this chapter on tumblr [here!](https://dayevsphil.tumblr.com/post/187595751313/cant-breathe-when-you-touch-my-sleeve-chapter-5)

Dan has made a lot of very bad decisions with alcohol in his system. Some of them he can laugh about now, like the time he sprained his ankle trying to sing Toxic whilst stood on a table and ended up toppling onto the floor of an Atlanta bar when he'd tried to shimmy. He hasn't been allowed back there since.

"To be fair," Patrick says when Dan voices this memory fondly, "you would have done that sober."

"You know, I probably would," says Dan. He finishes his glass of wine and eyes the hotel room desk thoughtfully. "D'you think -"

"No," says Patrick.

"Oh, go on, let him," Jaime laughs. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"I'm not even dignifying that with an answer."

They don't often drink together, because usually they're working, and nothing kills a buzz faster than a 4am wakeup call to get to hair and makeup on time. Plus, Dan doesn't drink as much as he used to. He's nearing thirty, closeted, and clinically depressed, he doesn't need to add alcohol to that fun mix.

But it's Thursday night, they've finished their last interview in London until late next week, and Jaime had pulled a couple of bottles out of her room to celebrate 'nobody falling off a stage yet this year'. So, they're drinking.

They've ended up in Dan's room because he remembered to bring his Switch and he doesn't have dirty pants lying around. Patrick is sprawled across the foot of Dan's bed and Jaime, after a long process of attempting to get comfortable on the armchair, has slid to the floor with Dan. The wine is good and strong and Dan might be a little buzzed.

Dan's phone buzzes with a text from Phil. He can't stop the easy smile from breaking across his face, but Patrick and Jaime are too busy bickering about whether or not Dan breaking his neck would be worth a repeat performance to notice.

**Still on for tomorrow? :)**

**ya!**, Dan sends before he can regret showing enthusiasm.

He doesn't need to worry too much, because Phil responds with a **Yay!!** and that's objectively less cool. 

Some of the bad decisions Dan has made when he's drunk are ones that he can't actually laugh about, either because they're horrifically embarrassing - like climbing into bed with his friend's parents - or because they hurt too much to be funny - like ending up with a black eye after he mouthed off to a skinhead at Reading Festival - or because they're, well. The bad decision he's about to make again.

**you should come hang out at the hotel**, Dan texts Phil, because tipsy Dan is even hornier than regular Dan.

**You want me to come over?**

Phil is walking that line again, waiting for Dan to be upfront so he doesn't have to be.

The thing is, Dan could say yes, kick his costars out of his room, and make another bad decision in a long line of them, but. He really _likes_ Phil. This isn't the same thing as hitting up a crew member on the downlow.

He still wants to see Phil, though. So he says, **yeah me n patrick n jaime are drinking and you should join usssss**, makes it clear this isn't some kind of booty call.

**Okay! I'd love to meet your friends. What hotel are you at?**

\--

Another glass and a half of wine and four rounds of Mario Kart later, Dan is vaguely surprised by a knock at his room's door.

"We aren't being that loud, are we?" Jaime asks, her drawl almost incomprehensible now that she's two sheets to the wind. Patrick shrugs, and then Dan remembers.

"Oh!" he says, wobbling to his feet. "I asked Phil to come hang out with us."

"Who?"

"Dog man!" Jaime exclaims. Dan is laughing as he opens the door, and Jaime repeats herself even louder. "Dog man! Hello!"

"Hi," says Phil, slow and amused.

He looks good. Dan is wondering if he ever _doesn't_, honestly, but Phil had clearly put some effort in tonight. He's wearing a bright, patterned button-down that's open at the throat, and he's close enough that Dan can smell his cologne.

"You're dog man," Dan tells him unnecessarily. "Come in, we've got wine."

"Oh, I wasn't sure what we were drinking." Phil's body brushes against Dan's in the narrow entryway as he accepts Dan's invitation. Dan cannot, for the life of him, tell if it is intentional or not. "I brought vodka. It's birthday cake flavoured? I have no idea if it's any good, it just looked fun."

"Nice," says Patrick. His head and shoulders are in danger of falling off the foot of Dan's bed as he plays Mario Kart upside down. 

"This is Jaime and Patrick," says Dan. Remembering how quickly Phil had decided to call him by a nickname, he adds, "Just Patrick, don't call him Pat or he'll kick you."

"Noted," says Phil. He puts the bottle down on the desk and smiles. "Nice to meet you both."

"Nice to meet you," Jaime echoes in a terrible English accent. It doesn't even come in the same realm as Phil's dialect. She giggles to herself and pats the piece of carpet beside her. "Phil, right? Come sit with me! Show me pictures of your dog!"

Phil laughs and does as he's told, folding his long limbs up to lean against the dresser with Jaime.

While Phil gets his gallery open and Patrick races against the computer, Dan decides to be a good host and pour them all new drinks. He doesn't know if the flavoured vodka will mix well with his Coke at all, but. That's what he's got, so that's what his friends are getting. He takes little sips to test as he mixes, making sure it's alcoholic enough and isn't too awful.

He looks over at the sound of Jaime's delighted laughter and feels his lips curve upwards. Jaime's deep skin, dark clothes, and bubblegum pink hair that might or might not be a wig are all such a contrast to Phil that seeing them together is almost comical, but they look sweet. 

Dan can't help but snap a picture, then another of Patrick, who is still upside down, then a final shot of his concoctions. He adds all three to his Instagram story and tags his friends in them, hoping sober Dan won't hate him too much for it.

"Here you go," Dan says once he's done fucking around on his phone. He holds out two disposable hotel cups to Phil and Jaime, who both beam up at him.

"Thanks," says Jaime.

The smile on Phil's face is enough to make Dan confident that this was a good idea. "Thanks, Dan."

Patrick and Jaime make dramatic 'oooh' noises, like kids when someone gets called to the headteacher's office. Phil looks between them with a bemused sort of expression, and Dan is just trying to keep his blush to a minimum as he sips his drink.

"You gonna let that slide, Daniel?" Patrick asks, emphasising Dan's full name with a bad English accent of his own. Dan imagines that's how Patrick thinks he sounds every time he corrects anyone at work who calls him Dan.

"Yeah," Dan mumbles into his cup. "S'fine."

With a giggle, Jaime leans closer to Phil and stage-whispers, "He doesn't let anyone call him that."

"I let some people," Dan defends himself, although it's true that he hasn't introduced himself as Dan since uni. He's certainly never been okay with people he works with deciding to call him Dan, because it's a forced familiarity he doesn't like.

"Really?" Phil asks. He's got this wary look on his face, like he's not sure if he's the butt of the joke here or not. "I didn't know that. Does it bother you?"

"Not when you say it," Dan says, a little too quickly and too honestly.

Jaime giggles, but Dan is too busy staring at his drink and wondering if it's technically deep enough to drown in to look at her. He doesn't want to look at Phil, either, doesn't want to see whatever's happening behind those big eyes.

"I mean, it makes sense," Jaime says, still in that carrying whisper. "Seeing as Daniel thinks you're cute and all."

"Jaime!" Dan practically gasps. He loses the fight to his blush, feeling his face burn with it.

He turns a glare on her that probably isn't very effective with his lobster cheeks, and she blinks at him for a moment before she grins.

"Oh, sorry," she says. "Was that a secret?"

Patrick laughs like it's a joke, and Jaime joins him, before they start chatting about the cake vodka like Dan isn't standing in the middle of his hotel room, terrified.

It's not like Dan has exactly been subtle - he's sure that Phil knows how he feels. But that's not something he wants to have brought up in the way straight people joke about being attracted to each other, because it's not a joke.

Or... maybe they know that. Maybe his coworkers have caught on to something Dan has tried so hard to keep at the very corners of his mind. Maybe they aren't making the 'haha imagine if you actually thought a guy was cute' joke, but are rather just teasing him for his crush the same way he does to them when they mention a barista is cute or something.

He's not really sure which is worse, to be honest. Does he want them to be assuming he's straight or assuming he's not? He doesn't even know.

What does he want Phil to think?

At the thought, Dan's eyes drift to Phil. Naturally, like they belong there, like he shouldn't be looking anywhere else. His breath hitches in his chest when he sees that Phil was already looking back at him.

There's a moment of sheepishness, where they have to acknowledge that they've been caught staring at each other, but then... Phil smiles. 

It's a smile Dan has seen before, on the park bench and on his FaceTime screen and in Phil's living room, and Dan thinks he could look at it forever.

Dan is the first one to break their eye contact, grinning into his hand like Phil won't notice. 

"Budge up," Dan tells Patrick, louder than necessary. "I think we should all race. Loser has to take a shot."

"Oh no," Phil says. It occurs to Dan that Phil is still more or less sober, since he hasn't been drinking all evening like they've been. He wonders what Phil is like when he's drunk. "Do you have enough controllers?"

"Yeah, let me just," says Dan.

His friends all get comfortable on the king bed while Dan searches his luggage for his extra joy-cons. He keeps the red and blue ones with him when he travels just in case, but he generally only uses the black ones. They're much more his aesthetic.

Patrick is still lounging like a lord being hand-fed grapes, but Phil and Jaime have both settled against the headboard like normal human beings. There's enough space between them for Dan to sit, and he feels a warmth spread through him that has nothing to do with alcohol or embarrassment. He's just happy that his friends left room for him, are thinking about him.

It's actually kind of pathetic that these three people are the best friends Dan has. After all, two of them are being paid to be friendly with him and he only just met Phil.

Dan gives himself a little shake to physically get rid of the self-deprecating thoughts, because that's never a good road to go down when he's drinking. He should just enjoy having a good time with people he likes.

And he does. He sits close enough to Phil that their shoulders brush and pokes at Patrick with his foot to distract him and lets Jaime's trill of a laugh loosen the knot in his chest until he forgets it's there. He's having fun, honestly, in a way he hasn't let himself in a long time.

Phil loses the first two games and takes the punishment shots with grace, but then he ups the ante.

"Next one to lose has to finish it in one," he declares. There's a little less than three shot's worth in the bottle, and Dan exchanges amused looks with Jaime and Patrick over the idea of Phil chugging that.

Turns out, Phil is either extremely lucky or a fucking grifter. He edges Dan out of first place in the last few seconds of the race and cheers loud enough that Dan is sure they're going to get complaints from neighbouring rooms. Patrick, who ended up in seventh thanks to a well-timed red shell, insists that Phil must have cheated somehow. Still, he takes the vodka from a gloating Phil and finishes it off to the dulcet tones of the three of them chanting, "Chug! Chug!"

Patrick, understandably, excuses himself to go to sleep not long after the alcohol hits his system. He leaves his sandals on Dan's floor and heads down the hall barefoot.

"Why am I responsible for these now?" Dan asks the room at large, idly clearing up the mess they'd left. He doesn't want to wake up in the morning with a cake-flavoured hangover and a bunch of tiny plastic cups laying about.

"You're the team mom, Dan," Jaime coos, poking at his cheek. She's small enough that she has to lean up on her tiptoes to do so.

"Daniel," Dan corrects her automatically.

With a triumphant sort of look over her shoulder, Jaime pats Dan's face with her tiny palm. Dan feels himself blushing again now that he realises what she's teasing him for.

"You're so cute," she says, pinching at his soft cheek before she settles back down on flat feet with a grin. "I'm gonna head out, too. It was really nice to meet you, Phil! You should come back next week! And bring your dog!" 

"I'll see what I can do," says Phil. His voice has gone deeper than usual with the alcohol, and he's propped up on his elbows with his long legs spread out over Dan's bed. He smirks, but if that's at Jaime's request or at the way Dan's mouth has obviously gone dry, Dan can't tell.

He looks at Jaime to see if she's still laughing at him, but Jaime is too busy raking her own eyes down Phil's body. She notices Dan staring and winks at him.

"See you tomorrow," she says, tone laden with implications that Dan isn't sober enough to parse.

She takes Patrick's sandals with her as a joke, tells them to let him think he lost them, and Dan's throat feels thick with some kind of emotion when the door clicks behind her and he's alone with Phil.

"You wanna keep playing?"

Phil is either completely oblivious to the way Dan is aching for him, or he knows and is waiting for Dan to make the first move.

Well, Dan is at least cognizant enough to remember all the reasons why making that move would be a terrible idea. He really ought to tell Phil he's tired and that he should probably head home to Thor, but. He likes the way he feels when he's with Phil. And until one of them decides to voice the question of whatever's happening here, he'll just enjoy it.

"Yeah, if you're ready to get your ass kicked," says Dan. He smirks right back at Phil and sits a respectable distance away on the other side of the bed.

"Big words for a man who got second place last round," says Phil, voice lilting on some of his vowels.

"I don't know how you did that," Dan says, pointing a slightly wobbly finger in Phil's face. Phil acts like he's going to bite at it, and Dan pulls back reflexively. "But I know it was a fucking fluke, okay?"

"It wasn't a fucking fluke. I'll totally, like, annihilate you, Howell."

Hearing Phil swear is still unnervingly sexy, but his trash talk is bad enough that it makes Dan laugh, distracts him from the taut atmosphere.

Dan meets Phil's eyes, which are twinkling in the low light of the television screen and single bedside lamp. "You're on."

\--

When Dan stirs from his weirdly restless dreams, he's got such a pounding headache that he groans dramatically, even though nobody is around to hear him. Every movement is making nausea swell, but he needs to stretch out his sore limbs. He must have slept funny or something.

He starfishes out and jolts fully awake with a stronger wave of nausea when his right hand hits something solid.

Dan yelps, his eyes flying open, and an answering groan from the other side of the bed has him panicking until he recognises the shape of the shoulders and the pattern of the shirt.

"Phil?" he whispers, trying to calm himself down. 

"What?" 

Phil's sleep-husky voice has heat curling in Dan's stomach that threatens to spread. Luckily, he feels like shit enough for it not to take over his body.

He reaches out again, on purpose this time, and pokes between Phil's shoulder blades. "Uh. Why are you here?"

"Got drunk," Phil grunts. "Fell 'sleep. Go away."

"This is my bed," says Dan. 

"Shhh."

"Why am I topless?" Dan asks, mostly to himself. He didn't black out or anything crazy, but the night is kind of blurry around the edges, especially once he and Phil were left alone. 

Phil sighs. He rolls over and squints in the general direction of Dan's torso. "You took your shirt off because you said it was too hot."

That does sound like something Dan would do. Although, it also sounds like a tactic he might have used to make Phil distracted enough to lose at Mario Kart. He's kind of glad that he can't remember his thought process behind it.

"Oh," says Dan. "Uh. Hi."

"Hi," says Phil. He yawns and rubs at his eyes. "Glad I brought my contact case. Would have fucking sucked to crash in them."

Phil swearing in such a low, dry voice is almost enough to get Dan's blood flowing south, but then his headache throbs again and reminds it to stay where it is.

"So you can't even see me right now, can you?" Dan laughs, soft. "How bad are your eyes?"

"I can see kind of a light beige blur from here to here," Phil says, gesturing from Dan's face to his tummy. "I'm guessing that's you."

That gets a louder laugh out of Dan, and they both wince.

"Yeah, that's me."

"Don't know about you, Daniel," says Phil, "but I feel like death warmed over right now."

"You can call me Dan, y'know," says Dan. He feels himself blush a bit at the reminder of everything Jaime and Patrick had said in front of Phil. He's glad Phil can't really see him. "Think you know me well enough."

Phil cracks a smile at him and grunts, rubbing more vigorously at his eyes like that'll magically bring his sight back. "Ugh. Need a coffee."

"Coffeemaker's busted," Dan says apologetically. Phil makes a truly pathetic noise, rolling onto his back and putting an arm over his face like a fainting maiden. "Fuck, fine, I'll go get some from the lobby. You needy little shit."

"You're the best, Dan," Phil yawns. "Owe you one."

"Yeah, yeah."

The waves of nausea make Dan move slowly, but they're not so horrible that he thinks he'll actually throw up. He's had a lot of experience with binge drinking until he vomits, and he knows his body well enough to be certain that this and his headache will recede as soon as he eats. 

Food is a good idea, actually. Dan picks up his phone to get something greasy delivered to them posthaste. 

He's got more activity on Instagram than he expects to, but then he remembers that he'd stupidly posted stories about getting drunk in a hotel room and tagged three semi-famous people in them. He looks at the photos again and decides, well, they're not awful.

A few new unread texts as well, adding to the stack of literally dozens that he keeps meaning to look at, but luckily those are just from his costars.

From Jaime, he gets **that was funnnn**, and **phol is NICE**, and **hope u used protection xoxoxoox**, and **yall are sooooo cute omg ur FACE when u look at him**, and **u dont have to tell me but how long hav yall been datign**, and **jkdjmmmlllllllll**, and **sry durjk**.

From Patrick, he gets **Have you seen my Birkenstocks?**

Dan is a little too hungover to deal with a panic attack at this time of day, so he leaves them both on read and orders breakfast for him and Phil.

He looks over at Phil, who's still flat on his back and shielding his eyes. His chest is rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm now, and Dan thinks that he's probably fallen back asleep.

"Lazy oaf," Dan murmurs, fond.

The thing is, Phil looks really good right now. Not the same way he'd looked good last night, when Dan had needed to fight not to jump his bones, but good in a way that makes Dan want to snuggle up next to him. It's a terrifying thought, but Dan thinks he could get used to the sight of Phil, asleep and tangled in Dan's sheets.

His button-down and jeans don't look very comfortable, though. Dan picks his way through his suitcase as quietly as possible and leaves a t-shirt and sweats on the foot of the bed for Phil to put on whenever he wakes up. After a moment's hesitation, he adds clean socks and pants to the pile.

It's not a big deal, he tells himself as he tugs a long sleeved t-shirt over his own head and stuffs his feet into his shoes. He'd do the same for any of his friends. The fact that his heart picks up speed at just the idea of Phil wearing his clothes is totally irrelevant.

So he leaves Phil snoring in his bed to go get them both breakfast. It's a little scary, how he feels like he could do this every single day.

Whatever. He'll deal with that after coffee.

\--

"Last night was fun, actually."

Dan blinks up from his phone at the first full sentence Phil has uttered since he was woken up a second time. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," says Phil. "Even if I do feel like shit, I still had fun. I like your friends."

They're both in loungewear - _Dan's_ loungewear, which is a little tight around Phil's upper arms and hips, god - and their delivered breakfast is long gone. Phil had communicated mostly in grunts and gestures until he'd downed half his boiling coffee in one go. It was very caveman of him. Dan hates that he'd found it hot.

Now they're just scrolling on their own phones, leaned up against the headboard, and Dan can feel his resolve start to crumble.

He's still unsure about himself. It's not like he's totally comfortable with the label he's so scared is the one for him, and he still doesn't know what he's doing with the rest of his life, but. He's not as unsure about wanting Phil to be in his life.

"I like them too," Dan says, bringing his lukewarm coffee to his lips to try and mask his slight blush. "I - well, they're probably my best friends. Other than... you."

Dan half expects Phil to laugh awkwardly or get all uncomfortable, but Phil just smiles at him.

"Y'know, I think you're mine, too," he says. "Is that weird?"

"If that's weird, then at least we're both weird," says Dan. Warmth is spreading through his whole body at the confirmation that Phil thinks of him the way he thinks of Phil. "Like I know we haven't known each other for long, or whatever, but that doesn't really seem to matter."

The smile on Phil's pretty face widens to something so bright and genuine that Dan has to look away. "Yeah, exactly. Feels like we were supposed to meet."

Dan rolls his eyes, trying to cover up the way his heart stutters. "Oh no, you're one of those people who believes in destiny."

"Yep," Phil says cheerfully. "Better get used to it."

Honestly, Dan likes the idea of that. Getting used to Phil's ridiculousness is something he thinks he could happily do. Not for the first time, Dan wishes he never had to leave this city.

"It's a good thing you're funny," Dan says, affecting an air of reluctance. It's probably not as effective when he's smiling into his shirt sleeve.

"And cute, right?" Phil teases.

Somehow, Dan had completely blocked that part of the evening from his memory. He groans and covers his face as the moment comes flooding back. God, he's going to _kill_ Jaime for that. He hears Phil laugh, and then Dan's hands are being pulled away from his face by a cool, loose grip on his wrists. 

Phil doesn't let go of him right away, just keeps grinning as he holds Dan's wrists between them on the mattress.

"Jaime's a liar," Dan grumbles. His heart is going fucking crazy. "I didn't - I mean, I didn't _say_ you were cute, okay, she's exaggerating."

"What did you say, then?"

"Well. She said Thor was cute and I thought she meant you. That's all."

Dan regrets how well he's allowed Phil to know him, because Phil laughs and slides his hands down to squeeze both of Dan's in response. His touch doesn't linger. Dan bites back noises of disappointment, but Phil is only picking his phone back up.

"Thor is pretty cute, too. I better check up on him."

"Oh, yeah," says Dan. He's grateful for the topic being changed, but he won't act like he didn't want Phil's hands on his for longer. "He's okay, right? I didn't mean to kidnap you."

"Sure you didn't. It's fine, he's at my brother's. I," says Phil, then he stops. If Dan didn't know any better, he'd say Phil's cheeks are turning pink. 

"You?" Dan prompts. 

Phil gives him a sheepish sort of grin, and - yes. There's colour above his sharp cheekbones that wasn't there when he was teasing Dan. "I dunno. I kind of... figured I'd be staying over, so I dropped him off on my way here."

Now, Dan doesn't have time to unpack all that. He's not stupid _or_ humble; he already knows that Phil wouldn't exactly complain if Dan were to push things further than they are right now. The issue, of course, is that the more important Phil becomes to Dan, the bigger and more dangerous of a leap it would be to go ahead and push that boundary.

He's leaving for a few days early tomorrow morning and putting some physical space between him and Phil, so. He'll overthink it all then, when he can lie on the floor by himself and let the waves of dread crash over him.

It really wouldn't be fair to their friendship to make a snap decision, and it wouldn't be fair to Phil to lie facedown on the hotel room floor while he's still here.

"Really," Dan says flatly, trying so hard not to tip the conversation into anything serious. Today isn't the day for that. "You brought your contact case and left Thor at Martyn's, but couldn't be bothered to bring a change of clothes? Your story is full of holes, Lester."

Phil laughs, a surprised sort of giggle that Dan wishes he could listen to on a loop.

"You caught me," says Phil. His voice is dry, but his eyes twinkle as he turns his attention back to his phone. "My end goal was stealing your trackies."

That might actually be true. Dan isn't opposed.

"You can," he says with a little shrug, like his heart isn't going wild at the thought. "They're a bit short on me, anyway."

"We're the same height, Dan."

"Whatever you need to tell yourself to get through the day, Phil."

Another giggle. Phil's tongue pokes out between his teeth this time, and Dan feels the weirdest sense of pride. "Can I keep the shirt, too?"

"The shirt is a favourite, so you'd have to replace it," Dan says. "But if you're that desperate, sure."

"Nice," says Phil. "How much could it be to replace? Fifteen quid?"

Dan blinks and then honks a laugh. "Yeah, no, that's a Yeezy tee."

"Gesundheit," Phil says kindly.

"You might want to give that one back to me before you go," says Dan. "Because you're off by about a hundred dollars."

Phil's eyes widen comically and he looks down at himself.

"Dan. This is a t-shirt."

"It's a Yeezy t-shirt," Dan corrects him.

"Yeah, you can keep it." Phil sounds wary, like he's got a bomb strapped to his chest. "Have you got anything in the fifteen pound range so I don't feel horrible if I get coffee on it?"

"No," says Dan. _Take it off if it bothers you so much_, he wants to say, but he bites it back.

"Are these hundred-dollar trackies?"

"No, those are from H&M."

"Alright," Phil says with an exaggerated sigh of relief. "I'll take them off your hands, then."

"If you insist," Dan laughs. "How's Thor doing?"

The way Phil's whole face lights up at the question makes Dan's brain feel like mush. "He's good! Martyn sent me some pictures, you wanna see?"

"Obviously I want to see," says Dan. He scoots closer to Phil, leaning far enough into his space that he can smell the remainder of Phil's cologne still clinging to his neck. Dan holds back a shiver.

For a little while they stay like that, looking through the photos and videos of Thor that Phil's brother sent him and then moving on to photos and videos of Thor that are already saved to Phil's phone. Dan has no complaints - except, maybe, that the dog isn't here and in his lap right now.

It's deceptively easy to picture. Thor, curled up between them as they drink coffee and scroll through their respective feeds in comfortable silence, showing each other funny things every so often. Scratching behind Thor's ears and smiling over at Phil, unguarded. Happy.

This is going to make Dan crazy if he isn't careful. The domestic fantasies are somehow so much worse than the filthy ones.

"Do you want to do anything today?" Dan asks once Phil has reached puppy pictures and Dan is in very real danger of ugly crying over how tiny the corgi was. "I know we had plans, but I've still got a pretty massive headache."

"Oh, that's okay," says Phil. "I can head home whenever."

"No," Dan says, too quickly. "No, you - you can stay. I just mean I don't feel like, y'know, going anywhere. Let's just watch some movies and veg the fuck out."

"Alright," says Phil. His smile is slow and his voice is deep and his eyes are three different colours and goddamn, Dan is so fucked.

More than anything else that's happened with Phil since they met, this day is the thing making Dan's head spin. It isn't anything to write home about, all in all, since they really do just keep ordering food and watch made-for-tv movies until Phil has to leave, but. 

Maybe it's having Phil wrapped up in the blankets of his temporary home, making half of Dan's bed smell like him. Maybe it's the way Phil keeps touching him so casually, a hand on his knee while they talk or rapid taps against his arm when Phil correctly predicts a plot twist. Maybe it's just Dan's internal walls starting to come down, less and less guilt surrounding the craving he has for the sound of Phil's laughter the longer that he's exposed to it.

In any case, Dan has to unpack all of these _feelings_ before he sees Phil again. It's not something he's looking forward to, but maybe having a deadline will help.

Like it ever has in the past. Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eve, i owe you my fuckin life. danae has seen it and isn't impressed.
> 
> thank you all for reading!!!!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thor will be back soon, you guys. he's the best character here and we all know it.
> 
> new chapter up on monday!
> 
> read and reblog this chapter on tumblr [here!](https://dayevsphil.tumblr.com/post/187688748668/cant-breathe-when-you-touch-my-sleeve-chapter-6)

Dan has been wearing a line into the carpet of his hotel room, pacing back and forth for what feels like hours. He's muttering to himself, tugging at his hair whenever he gets especially worked up, and only spares a moment to consider what a weird image he makes for anyone who might come in.

"I'm gay," he says out loud, over and over, trying desperately to make it sound like it belongs there. 

He rewatches Phil's coming out video a few times to remind himself how _easy_ and _happy_ Phil made it sound, but he can't seem to recreate that energy alone in his room.

No matter how many times Dan says it, the word 'gay' still makes his heart race and his gut clench like he's gone over the drop of a rollercoaster. His pulse pounds in his ears when he imagines saying it to another person, someone he cares about, someone who might hate him for it.

It's just a word. It's just a _word_, and it's basically who he is. It shouldn't be this hard to say.

His phone goes off with a Twitter notification, but he can't handle that right now. He turns his phone off without reading the message from Phil and keeps pacing.

\--

"How did you deal with this for like twenty years?" Jaime complains, watching the rain fall almost horizontally outside the window. 

"I didn't live here," says Dan. He steals some of her chips while she isn't looking. 

"London wasn't much better."

They're holed up in one of the numerous tiny pubs in Dublin while they wait for Patrick to finish a solo interview and photoshoot. Dan likes it here, liked it in Edinburgh too, but he's been more or less working on autopilot. His mind is in a dog park in Soho, where Phil has been sending pictures from all afternoon. Pictures that he hasn't responded to.

"I like London," Dan says absently. He pretends not to understand the knowing look Jaime sends him. "What?"

"Sure, you liiiiike London," she teases, smacking his hand away from her plate. 

"I do!" Dan huffs. "I always wanted to live in London when I was a teenager. It was, like, the dream. And I think it's probably still where I'll be ending up eventually."

"And a cute guy with a cuter dog has absolutely nothing to do with that?" Jaime asks, sipping at her beer.

Dan feels his stomach twist. It's not pleasant, having someone assume something about you, even if that thing is true. He looks down at his own hands and shrugs. "No, I mean. I'd want London anyway. I just kind of want it... more, now."

"You never actually answered my drunk texts. How long have you been together?"

"We aren't together, James," says Dan. His throat is tight with suppressed emotion. This is the first time he has spoken out loud about his attraction to a guy to someone that matters to him. It's fucking terrifying. "I - I like him, though."

"I can tell," says Jaime. She kicks at his shin under the table and smiles when he gives her a reproachful look. "Don't call me James, or I'll call you Dan."

With a snort, Dan steals more of her chips. "Fine."

They eat in a fairly comfortable silence for a few minutes, both of their plates acting more like communal food, and Dan almost thinks he'll be able to get away with the topic being dropped.

"He likes you too, y'know," Jaime says, bursting that hope. "In case you couldn't tell that he eyefucks you constantly."

Dan feels his face heat up and resists the urge to throw something at her. The server in this very Irish pub has been nice to them so far, but causing a scene as a Brit and a Yank doesn't sound like the best plan. "Shut _up_."

"I'm serious, Daniel," she laughs. "You really can't tell?"

"No," Dan says, affecting an annoyed sort of sigh. "I mean, yeah, no, I can definitely tell that he would be up for it if I asked."

"Why haven't you asked, then?"

He could tell her any number of half-truths, and she'd accept them as whole answers. Not wanting to fuck up their immediate connection, the whole ocean between them thing, or any other justification he's been muttering to himself while he paces around his hotel rooms.

The thing is, though, that Dan trusts Jaime. She's never told anyone any of the stupid shit he does when it's just them. Neither has Patrick, for that matter, but he's not here right now. And Dan doesn't think he can say this twice.

"Because," he says, swallowing hard and looking at the table. "Nobody knows I like boys. I don't even like to think about it too much, usually."

Dan can practically hear his heart pounding. He jumps a bit when Jaime's small, dark hand covers one of his, and she gives it a reassuring squeeze. "Hey," she says quietly. "I didn't mean to push."

"You're fine," Dan says, and he means it. "I kind of need to think about it now, anyway."

"Because of Phil?" Jaime asks. When he nods and looks back up at her, she smiles. "You seem good together. I've never seen you look so happy, Daniel."

"I don't think I've ever been this happy," Dan admits. His palms are sweating. "And I know I haven't, like, known him that long or whatever, but. Did you know I used to be a fan of his back in the day? He was kind of a role model for teenage Daniel. If I'd have known he was gay back then... I don't know. Maybe I'd have been able to admit that about myself, too."

The label doesn't actually leave Dan's lips, not applied to himself, but he still feels like he's got hundreds of eyes on him. It's just Jaime's, though, big and dark and kind, and he tries to breathe through it.

"That's a very brave thing to tell me," says Jaime.

"Sorry," Dan says, nonsensically.

Jaime laughs, a trill of a noise that makes the dim, rainy day feel brighter. "Oh, you're _dumb_ dumb."

"Only sometimes," says Dan. He's fighting a losing battle with a grin. 

"Do you want to be with Phil?" she asks, so blunt about it that Dan is at a loss for words. 

He pulls his hand away from hers to play around with his phone, a nervous habit he's never really been able to kick. "I mean, yeah. I do. But it's really not that simple."

With a little hum, Jaime rests her chin on one of her palms. She's beautiful in a way Dan can appreciate beautiful art, beautiful clothing; she's not beautiful the way he finds Phil beautiful, the way he's found men beautiful for years and tried so hard to push away.

"I guess not, but I also know you pretty well by now, Howell," says Jaime. "You've never met a problem you can't twist into something worse."

A little rude. But very true.

"What do you suggest, then?" Dan snarks. "Tell the world I'm - and deal with the consequences of that? People back in Georgia already hate me for so much other shit, I doubt this will make it any fucking better."

"I suggest just being honest with yourself," says Jaime, ignoring the rest of his mini strop.

Being honest with himself is not something Dan has made a habit of doing. And he probably could live the rest of his life pushing this aside, stamping it down, lying through his teeth to the people around him, but. It sounds like a pretty shit way to live, if Dan is going to try the honesty thing right now.

He remembers how it felt to be leaning into Phil's space in the big hotel bed, remembers the way Phil had smiled at him every time he pulled Thor into a cuddle, remembers the deliberate circles Phil had traced on the back of his neck when they said goodbye at his flat.

That's something he wants. Dan is craving that, the intimacy and familiarity of it that he knows he'll never fully be able to feel with any nice, beautiful girls like Jaime.

He could probably do it, anyway. Meet a woman. Marry her. Have the kids he's always wanted. Maybe he'll even find someone who doesn't mind adopting so he doesn't have to live in fear of his child getting his fucked up genes. If he's very, very lucky, he might even find someone who doesn't mind this thing he's been keeping a lid on since he hit puberty.

The fear that strikes in Dan's heart as he imagines exactly what it would be like to keep living like this is what decides it for him.

"I don't want to," Dan starts, then stops. He has to think about his words and not just respond to his inner thoughts like a weirdo. "I mean... I don't want to lie. It's really, really exhausting. I just didn't have a good enough reason _not_ to."

"So what are you gonna do?" Jaime hums.

"What d'you mean?"

"Are you going to come out, like, to the general public?" Jaime asks, and Dan appreciates the nonchalance of her tone. "Or just me and Phil?"

"I don't know," says Dan. "I think I'd tell Patrick, too."

Jaime smiles and pats his hand. "Oh, darlin', he was in that room, too. I think he has an inkling."

"I can't tell other people until I tell my family," Dan says like she hasn't interrupted. "It just wouldn't be right, y'know, them finding out because a friend of a friend saw a piece in The Sun about how much I like sucking cock."

A cackle is startled out of Jaime, and she covers her mouth with both hands. "Daniel!"

"What?" Dan does his best to look innocent, but he's cracking into a shit-eating grin before he can stop it. "That's what would happen!"

"Horrible boy," she says.

"I didn't do anything."

"Please don't come out to your parents by telling them you like dick," says Jaime.

Dan shudders. "Ugh. Can we never talk about my parents and dick in the same sentence again? Thanks ever so."

"You started it!" 

They're still bickering when Patrick finally joins them, sliding into the booth beside Jaime and knocking his long legs against Dan's in greeting. "Did y'all eat already?"

"Yeah, you want something?" Jaime asks, handing over the menu they'd kept for him.

While Patrick looks it over, his fingers idly tapping against the thick wood of the table, Dan steels his nerves. He knows he doesn't need to do this, he's got no obligation, but he also knows that this is a safe environment and he might never do it if he procrastinates much longer.

"Shepherd's pie sounds good," says Patrick.

"I'm gay," says Dan.

"Okay," says Patrick, not looking up. "Or maybe a curry? D'you think it's good curry here?" 

Dan blinks. "I said, I'm gay."

"And I said okay." Patrick looks at him then, raising his eyebrows. "Did you want me to scream or something? It's not like it's a big deal."

It's a big deal to Dan. It's a really big deal. But he's touched by Patrick and Jaime's easy acceptance anyway, trying his best not to get emotional in the middle of the pub. He wants to explain himself, wants to say that he's never said those words to someone before, wants to cry and hug them both so tightly because they're his friends and he cares about them, but that would be overdramatic even for him.

"Thanks," he says instead, his voice thick with suppressed emotion. "The curry sounds good, mate."

"It does," Patrick agrees, and that's the end of that.

\--

As if he knows that Dan has been having his videos on for four nights straight, falling asleep to his voice and waking up twelve autoplayed videos later, Phil uploads a new video that night.

Dan is pretending like he's going to sleep, all the lights off and his laptop away and everything, because he's got breakfast radio in the very early hours of the morning and he wants to at least _try_ to be a functional human during it. But then he gets a notification for Phil's new video while he scrolls through Reddit, and he clicks on it without a second thought.

"Hi guys," the Phil on Dan's phone says, grinning and waving. Dan's breath catches, just a bit.

That's the outfit Phil was wearing when Dan came over and watched MasterChef with him. He was in Phil's flat during the filming of the last couple of minutes.

Logically, he knows that he's been in Phil's home, that he's been behind the scenes of AmazingPhil in a way that he never would have dreamed he'd be able to. It still fucking rattles him, though. He pays more attention to the jump cuts in the video - where, most likely, Thor had been bugging for attention - and desperately wishes he could remember which one was for Dan, which slice of unused footage was Phil telling him he wanted Chinese food.

"So I guess I won't be going back to Seven Dials for a while," says Phil, wrapping up yet another story that Dan forgot to pay attention to. He starts doing his outro, tells people to subscribe and all that jazz, says goodbye, rolls that beautiful Thor footage. 

There's still a minute left on the video. Dan thinks he knows why. 

Sure enough, after a beat of a black screen, Phil has included a blooper montage of all the times Thor interrupted his story. It's adorable, watching Phil get tongue tied and giggly while Thor licks at his face or does the zoomies around the room. Dan's heart feels full to burst at how badly he wants to be there again.

Will Phil include it? Dan's breath is caught in his throat as he waits, watching Phil's face so carefully to see what it does when - if - he says Dan's name.

Phil's lips curl into a different sort of smile than the one he'd been giving Thor. This one is warm in a way that makes Dan's pulse pick up speed, even seeing it on such a small screen. Finally, _finally_, Phil says, "Dan. Are you growling at Thor?"

He sounds like he's trying to be stern, but he can't quite accomplish it with that smile of his.

Then, Dan's own voice comes through. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" Phil's smile grows, gives him deep crinkles around his eyes. He looks so fucking fond. Dan doesn't think it's all for Thor. "I'm literally filming right now."

Dan whines, "He's just so cute," and then the video ends for real. Phil is smiling off-camera so genuinely, but autoplay is already suggesting another AmazingPhil video for Dan. With a resigned sort of sigh, he lets it play.

For about two weeks now, Dan has been figuring that, while Phil is a flirtatious guy who most likely wouldn't say no to a roll in the sheets, he doesn't actually _have feelings for Dan_ or anything crazy like that. How could he, when they've known each other for such a short amount of time? How does _Dan_ have all these feelings already?

But the way that Phil smiled when he was talking to Dan, and Dan wasn't looking back at him, is making Dan's head spin.

Fuck. He's got a lot to think about.

\--

If people keep telling Dan he looks tired, he's going to snap.

He didn't get any sleep at all, really, his mind in fucking overdrive all night as he tipped over the box in his mind and let it all wash over him at once. He doesn't feel better, not yet, still exhausted and anxious and really, desperately not wanting to be sat in a radio station with his costars.

Unlike the BBC Radio One interview, this one is live on breakfast radio. Dan is trying not to think about that too much, or he's going to have back sweat all over his favourite shirt.

The shirt still smells like Phil. 

It's distracting.

Dan hasn't responded to the Thor photos that Phil sent him yesterday or this morning, too wrapped up in his own brain as he's been. He hopes that Phil won't be offended, because - well, Dan isn't the best texter in general, he might as well get used to bouts of silence.

His leg is bouncing as Jaime establishes a rapport with the radio host, whose name Dan has been told at least a dozen times. Gun to his head, he could not recall it now.

He's too busy thinking about Phil. And maybe that's a mistake, unprofessional at the very least, but Dan can't help it. He can smell the faintest hint of Phil's cologne when he puts the collar of his t-shirt over his nose and his hands keep twitching, remembering what it felt like to be held by Phil's.

Mind completely full of Phil and lack of sleep, Dan can't really be blamed for not paying attention to his surroundings.

This is his excuse, anyway, when the radio host introduces himself again for the audience - in one ear and out the fucking other for Dan - and Dan's response, after Patrick and Jaime have said their names, is to say, "Hi, I'm Phil."

There's a beat of complete silence before Jaime breaks it, honking into her microphone and covering her mouth. Dan's brain catches up with his mouth, then, and he feels himself turn brick red.

"Daniel's been up all night," Patrick says dryly. "Apparently, he _had_ to get three stars on Rainbow Road."

The idea that Dan didn't already have three stars on Rainbow Road is offensive, but he takes the life vest Patrick is throwing him. "Hah, yeah, sorry. I'm Daniel, and hopefully that'll be the most embarrassing thing I do today. I have a bit of a knack for it, if you didn't know."

Dan already knows he'll be clowned for this one for a while, judging by the sheer glee on Jaime's face, but he's determined to make it through the rest of the interview without forgetting his own name again.

Sure enough, they've barely said their goodbyes to the host and left the studio when Jaime crows, "'Hi, I'm Phil'? Holy shit, Howell!"

"I'm going to take a walk off a very short pier. 'Scuse me."

"It's not the worst thing you've ever done," says Patrick. His lips are twitching with either amusement or disapproval. Dan is guessing it's the former. "I mean, it's up there. But you've done way worse. Like do you remember the time -"

"That's not actually helpful," Dan says.

"Sorry, Phil," says Patrick.

Dan reaches for his throat with both hands and Patrick ducks out of the door with a bright laugh.

He's reluctant to check his phone the rest of the morning, because he can only imagine the cyberbullying he's going to endure from his fans over that slip of the tongue. Especially if they've already figured out that he was the 'Dan' at the end of Phil's video. Most people might not make the connection, since nobody really calls him that, but Dan has tweeted about Phil's videos and Phil has posted photos of them with Thor, so. It wouldn't take a fucking detective.

Once Dan's phone starts ringing with a call, though, he kind of has to deal with it. He's playing Guild Wars, so he puts the phone on speaker as quickly as possible. Only two people call him, so he doesn't even bother taking his eyes off the raid to look at the caller ID.

"Hullo?" 

"Hi," Phil's voice comes through the tinny speaker. He sounds like he's already on the verge of laughter, and Dan considers hanging up.

Still, he's glad it's Phil calling and not his agent. Amy can be very intimidating, even all the way from Los Angeles, and he can't imagine that she's going to be thrilled about all the fuckups he's had on this leg of the tour.

Dan sighs loud enough to be heard through the phone. "Hello, Phil."

"Oh, am I Phil? I thought you were Phil!"

"Very funny."

"Or are we all Phil?"

The bright chirp of Phil's voice makes Dan smile despite himself. He narrowly avoids getting murked in the game because he's too fucking busy mooning over a boy. Christ. 

"Are we human or are we Phil?" Dan asks, overly dry in case his smile shines through the way Phil's is.

Phil giggles. That's quickly becoming one of Dan's favourite sounds. He can practically picture the tongue between the teeth. "You big dork. How did that even happen? Like, walk me through your thought process."

"Isn't it abundantly fucking clear that I didn't _have_ a thought process?" Dan whines.

"I was just wondering if you had some kind of explanation," says Phil. He still sounds far too amused. Dan wants to be annoyed about it, but he can't even pretend like a happy Phil is something he doesn't want. "Because you've done a lot of stupid shit in interviews, Dan, but you've never forgotten your own name before."

"Thanks," says Dan.

"Oh, you know what I mean," says Phil.

Dan shrugs even though he's well aware Phil can't see him. "I dunno, I didn't really sleep last night, and then being in a radio station made me think about you."

That's definitely a half-truth. Dan hasn't stopped thinking about Phil for almost two weeks now.

He'd been hoping maybe some distance would help. Weekend in Edinburgh, couple nights in Dublin. Perfect to get his head on straight - or, not straight, as it happens - and start separating his feelings for Phil from the all-consuming endorphins of fast friendship.

If anything, though, being physically away from Phil has only drawn attention to how badly Dan wants him to be there. Hearing Phil's voice when they're on different islands is just solidifying those feelings into something not easily removed in Dan's chest.

"You were thinking about me?" Phil asks, and he sounds so _warm_, even as he's making fun of Dan.

God. Dan wants to be there. He wants to see the way Phil's eyes crinkle with his smile, wants to feel the weight of Phil's cool hand in his own.

They've still got another night in Dublin before they can head back, but. There's only one more interview, surely nobody will miss his awkward presence that much?

Dan checks the time as soon as he finishes his raid. It's barely noon. He bites his lip. The whole day is still ahead of him.

Is he really thinking about doing this?

"Maybe," he says. "Hold on, I need to - do something. I'll text you. Like, I'll actually text you."

"Okay," Phil agrees, sounding a bit bewildered but still just as cheerful.

"I promise that I'll text you," Dan says. He's really, really bad at texting people back at the best of times, let alone when he's in the midst of a proper existential crisis, but he'll have a lot of time with nothing but his phone when he's - hopefully - sat at the airport. 

"Okay," Phil says again, even warmer.

It would take no effort at all for Dan to get lost in that voice, but he's a man on a mission. Provided that Jaime and Patrick are okay with it, he's going to skive off tomorrow's interview and head back to London early. 

He won't even try to pretend it isn't for Phil. He's got to ride this deep-seated certainty as far as it'll take him. And it isn't going to be like a movie, he isn't rushing off to the airport to catch his one true love or anything like that, he just. Misses Phil. Wants to be with Phil. Maybe he'll kiss Phil, but that's as rom-com as he plans to get.

"I'll see you soon," says Dan. "I have to ask Jaime and Patrick something."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this week my lovely beta has been having a time adjusting to the terrible stress of teaching middle school english, so this chapter is a little rougher than usual. big thank you to eve anyway for cheering me on and giving me advice when she could!!!! i love you!
> 
> thank you all so much for reading, i love y'all too!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go! i personally am a big fan of this chapter, but hey, let me know if you're not. 
> 
> next chapter up on friday!
> 
> read and reblog this chapter on tumblr [here!](https://dayevsphil.tumblr.com/post/187752694308/cant-breathe-when-you-touch-my-sleeve-chapter-7)

**quick question are you home**

**I am! Not for long tho. What's up?**

Dan swears under his breath and hits the call button on his mobile, looking out the window so he doesn't have to feel the Uber driver's judgemental eyes on him.

"Hey!" Phil answers, bright and happy and _god_ Dan is glad he's doing this.

"Hi," says Dan. He can't help the warmth in his own voice, the barely-suppressed enthusiasm at simply hearing Phil for the second time today. "Sorry I went radio silent for like an hour. I was actually on a plane."

There's a sound like a cupboard door closing, followed by the telltale pouring of either cereal or dog food. With Phil, it really could go either way.

"On a plane?" Phil asks. "Thought you were staying another night."

"I was supposed to," says Dan. His heart is pounding. He is only ten minutes from Phil's front door, if Phil wants him.

"Are you doing a bunk?" Phil laughs, the sound of it warming Dan from his ears to his toes. "Where did you go? Surely saying my name on the radio wasn't so awful that you had to flee the country?"

"It was," says Dan, barking a laugh of his own. "But, no, I'm... back in London. I'm practically round the corner, actually, if you wanna... grab dinner? Or something?"

What feels like an entire minute of silence follows Dan's awkward suggestion, but it's probably more like five seconds. It's enough time for his palms to start sweating, in any case. He's about to laugh and say 'gotcha!' and act like this was all a grand joke before going to a hotel to cry, when Phil responds.

"Oh, Dan," he says, apologetic, and Dan wonders how much he'd have to tip his Uber driver to plunge them both into the Thames.

"Sorry, it's stupid," says Dan. "I wasn't even -"

Phil interrupts him. "It's not stupid, don't be an idiot, I _want_ to see you."

"Oh."

"Yeah," says Phil, "but I have dinner plans with my family. Mum and dad are flying out of Heathrow tomorrow for holiday and wanted to see us before they leave."

"Oh," Dan says again. He doesn't really see why that's an issue. Sure, they won't be able to Talk with a capital T or anything, but he still wants to see Phil so badly that it's going to give him a stomach ache. "Well, I can - I mean, if that's not too weird for you or whatever, I'd - if you want -"

"Are you going to finish one of those sentences?"

"Fuck off." Dan takes a deep, steadying breath. "What I'm _saying_ is that I wouldn't mind meeting your family. Or I could just hang out with Thor until you get back, or whatever."

Another beat of silence, this one longer. Finally, Phil says, "You want to meet my family?", in such a skeptical tone of voice that Dan is offended despite not, in fact, being certain about it at all. 

"Well, shit, I don't have to," says Dan, miffed. "You met mine, though."

"I met your coworkers, Dan."

"Yeah, and they're practically my family."

"This is literally my family," says Phil. He exhales, sounding for all the world like he's pinching his nose between his finger and thumb like an overdramatic librarian. "Dan, are you going to be a fucking brat if I say no?"

"Not if you don't really want me there," Dan mumbles. He's a little taken aback by how okay he is with Phil calling him a fucking brat. It hits him right on an edge of shame that could tumble way too easily into arousal if he were to let it.

Phil sighs again. "No, that's not it. I want you there. You wanna drop your stuff off at my place?"

"Yeah," Dan says sheepishly. "I'm almost there, just coming from the airport."

When Dan pulls up to the kerb outside the familiar row of narrow buildings, he sees Phil waiting for him with this resigned, amused sort of smile and his hands in his pockets. He's wearing a plaid shirt and a denim jacket with ripped jeans, looking for all the world like he's stepped out of a 90s grunge band.

He comes over to help Dan with his bags, laughing a bit. "You really came right here, huh? Hi."

"Told you I did," says Dan. On impulse, he wraps an arm around Phil's shoulders in a half-hug. He can smell Phil's cologne so strongly where his nose presses against Phil's neck, and it makes his head spin a bit. "Hi yourself."

It takes all of Dan's self control not to just kiss Phil here on the pavement in front of god and everyone, drag him downstairs by the lapels and make him forget everything that isn't Dan's name. It's very, very tempting, but Dan knows how much Phil loves his parents, how little they get to see each other, so. He pulls away from the hug without doing anything stupid and meets Phil's eyes with a little smile.

"Jaime and Patrick still in Dublin?" Phil asks, leading the way into his home and down the stairs.

The fact that his back is to Dan helps the ease of answering. "Yeah. I came back early because," he says, then pauses. "I missed London."

Phil grins over his shoulder as he gets the flat's door open. "London missed you."

Dan smiles back, wide and open. He's got no reason to hold back now. They don't have time to talk before they leave - Dan doesn't think he'll be able to go anywhere once he's allowed to put his hands on Phil - but that doesn't mean Dan can't already be obvious about why he's here.

The apartment is dimly lit tonight, all the candles blown out in anticipation of Phil leaving for a couple of hours and only a string of fairy lights and one lamp turned on. 

Dan's luggage gets dropped unceremoniously in the entry, because both of them are suddenly busy with a very excited dog zooming around their ankles and threatening to trip them up. Dan laughs and sinks to the floor, letting Thor jump up on him and lick his face. He ends up flat on his back, again, giggling helplessly while Thor wiggles around on his chest.

"Why do you rile him up?" Phil asks, doing a very admirable job of sounding exasperated. His soft expression tells Dan how he's really feeling.

"He's cute," says Dan. He noses at one of Thor's ears. "And soft. And I like him."

"Seems like he feels the same way about you," says Phil. 

"We're best friends, aren't we, Thor?" Dan coos, sitting up enough to shift Thor's weight to his lap. It's easier to give him pats like this. "Yes we are! We are! You're the cutest dog in the world!"

"That's true," says Phil. He crouches down beside them and scratches behind Thor's ear. His eyes meet Dan's, and they both smile.

This is exactly the kind of domestic fantasy Dan has decided to embrace. He holds himself back from leaning in for a kiss, but only because he knows they have places to be. It's nice to know that if he did lean forward, Phil would let him. He likes that calm certainty.

"Are we going somewhere nice?" Dan thinks to ask. "Should I change?"

"Nowhere fancy," says Phil. He reaches out and tugs at one of Dan's hoodie strings. "But maybe a different top layer, there."

"I don't want to dig through my shit," Dan says, totally aware of how obvious he's being. Whatever, Phil was worse about stealing his sweatpants. "Have you got something I could borrow?"

Phil rolls his eyes like he sees right through Dan and tugs at the other string, just to be a dick. "Yeah, alright, borrow. Sure. So if I can't find it next week, that's a coincidence?"

"I'm not responsible for you losing shit, mate."

"Fuck off," Phil says warmly. He stands up, wincing as his knees make a funny crick of a noise. "I'll be right back, but then we're leaving, okay? I don't want to be late. Get your puppy cuddles in now."

Dan grins down at Thor and gives him softer pats with both hands, trying to calm him down a bit. His fluffy fur is so soft and his ears are perked up so happily that Dan might actually start crying. He loves dogs, generally, and he loves this dog, specifically.

Kind of like how he likes London, generally, and this apartment, specifically. How he's into guys, generally. Phil, specifically.

Thor does calm down fairly easily once Dan stops matching his high energy. He rests his chin on Dan's thigh, half on Dan's lap and half on the floor, and just hangs out there until Phil comes back from the bedroom area of his flat. He's holding another denim jacket, something Dan doesn't even _own_ but apparently Phil has several of.

"It's just from Topman," Phil says, grinning down at Dan and Thor. "But it's the only black jacket I've got that isn't, like, a blazer. Would you prefer a blazer?"

Dan snorts. "Absolutely not."

It hurts him a bit to dislodge Thor and stand up, but Thor happily trots back to his bed and starts gnawing on one of his toys. Phil grins wider and hands over the jacket, which isn't even black. It's a dark grey, distressed, and the collar is fuzzy. Dan is going to steal this for sure.

Dan tugs his hoodie off over his head and tosses it at Phil. He laughs at the affronted look on Phil's face.

"I'm not your butler," Phil says. He hangs the hoodie up next to Thor's leash, anyway. Dan likes the look of it there. "Are you ready? I'll get a car."

The jacket fits Dan well enough. When he glances at himself in the mirror by the door, he decides that he likes the way it looks on him, too. It doesn't smell like Phil, just some generic detergent, but Dan still likes it anyway. Besides, his Yeezy t-shirt still has the faint scent of Phil clinging desperately to it. Dan wonders what it would be like to live in a world where all his clothes smelled like Phil in some capacity.

"Yeah," he says, still looking at the easy way he fits in this jacket, this flat. "I'm ready."

\--

"Did you warn your family that I'm coming?" Dan asks, coming to a sudden stop before they reach the door of the restaurant and taking Phil's wrist so he stops, too. If he's going to be a surprise tagalong, he ought to know.

Phil blinks, then smiles. "I texted them, yeah."

"And they're, like," says Dan, chewing on his lower lip, "okay with it?"

A quick, reassuring squeeze of Dan's hand before Phil pulls his own hand back. Dan imagines that he is all too aware that they're out on the pavement on a rather busy street. He likes to think that Phil would hold his hand properly if they were somewhere more private and comfortable.

"They're okay with it," Phil assures him. "You'll probably hate how okay with it they are once they start interrogating you."

"They're gonna interrogate me?"

"Probably, I don't really know." Phil stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks away from Dan, into the window of the restaurant. "I've never brought someone to meet them before."

Dan's heart skips a beat. Phil is so carefully not looking at him, his profile lit by the evening sun and streetlights, and Dan can't remember him ever needing to break eye contact to say something. Phil has been the calm, confident one since they met.

Maybe this means something to Phil that Dan hadn't considered. He swallows hard. "Hey. If this is - weird, or whatever, I don't need to be here."

"It's not weird to me," says Phil. "I'm happy to bring you, I just really didn't expect it from you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dan asks.

Inviting himself to a family dinner just so he could spend more time with Phil was a bit cheeky of him, sure, but Dan doesn't know what the issue is, if Phil doesn't think it's weird. 

Phil laughs softly, his eyes flickering back to Dan just for a moment. "You just keep... surprising me. You want me to tag you on Instagram, you want me to hang out with your friends, you want to meet my family. It's just not what I expected, I guess, since I know you're not, like, out."

"I - what?" Dan bleats, his blood rushing to his ears and making it harder to hear the surrounding din of London. 

"It's fine," says Phil, misinterpreting the question. "I don't mind taking things slow, but we've been on, like, three and a half dates and you haven't kissed me, but you wanted to come tonight. You can see where I got surprised."

As soon as the initial shock settles, it hits Dan all at once: Phil thinks they've been dating this entire time. He thinks Dan wants to meet his parents as someone who he's been casually seeing, not as a friend who's been gathering the courage to push himself into something less platonic.

Dan has to bite back some hysterical laughter. Phil probably thinks he's the most frigid guy in the fucking world. 

He's glad that Phil isn't looking at him, doesn't have to see the shellshocked confusion and inappropriate amusement that he knows is being broadcast across his face.

"Three _and a half_?" Dan repeats. His voice sounds far too high to his own ears. 

"I don't really count drinking with your coworkers as a date," Phil laughs. He turns back to Dan, and Dan uses every ounce of his training to bring his expression back to something less telling. "No need to look so worried. My family's nice."

Dan is sure they are. He considers fleeing for half a second before he remembers that he _wants_ to be with Phil.

He doesn't think this is a conversation that needs to happen on the pavement while people are waiting for them inside, so. He'll let Phil take the lead on the conversation and summon all the acting chops he has to make Phil's parents like him. Then, when they're alone again, Dan will be honest about the misunderstanding.

On the bright side, he can absolutely pitch this concept to a Netflix producer as an oblivious lesbian romantic comedy. He's just annoyed at himself for making him live it. 

This is ridiculous. He is in a ridiculous situation right now. Before he follows Phil inside, he texts Jaime a quick, **ok so im in a romcom after all and in a shocking twist of events im also very very stupid**.

**WHAT DID YOU DO**

Dan doesn't reply, because he has to get into role now as someone who totally knew that the coffee and the Chinese food and the hungover vegging out were Dates. 

\--

Phil's parents do seem nice, which is something of a relief. His mum is a tiny whirlwind of cheer, giving Phil a hug and a few kisses to his pink face before she turns to Dan and exclaims, "You must be Daniel!"

She hugs him, too. It's an odd sensation for Dan, but he awkwardly pats her on the back. "Yeah, uh, hi. Sorry for crashing your party."

"Nonsense," she says, with such feeling that Dan actually believes her.

"Dan, these are my parents," Phil says unnecessarily, sliding into the booth across from a quiet man with Phil's smile. "Kath and Nigel."

"Nice to meet you, Dan," Nigel says, taking the name cue from Phil. He shakes Dan's hand when he sits down next to Phil. It makes Dan a little emotional, seeing these people genuinely pleased to meet him, even though he's a man.

"Daniel, sir," Dan corrects him politely. He gives Phil a sidelong look. "Only this one calls me Dan."

Phil just shrugs, looking a little smug.

"Your brother should be here soon," Kath says, looking over the drink menu. "Any idea if he's bringing Cornelia? I have a scarf to give back to her."

"You could always just give it to Martyn," Phil suggests. They both laugh.

"Yeah, alright, love, if I want it to get lost on the way."

Dan bites his lip and looks at his own menu. Phil is so comfortable with his parents in a way that he doesn't know if he could ever be with his own. Even if he were to let them into his life and they were to accept him for it, he thinks it might be too late for them to really bond. 

Now's not the time for this crisis on top of the one he's already having, though. He tunes back into the conversation, which is still on the whereabouts of Phil's brother.

Nigel notices him looking up from the table and gives him a smile that's all Phil, reassuring and a little sheepish. "So, Daniel, tell us about yourself. Phil hasn't told us anything but your name."

"Must be ashamed of us," Kath sniffles, overdramatic, and Dan decides he likes her.

"I'm just not that interesting," Dan laughs.

A little scoff comes from beside Dan. "Shut up," says Phil. "Dad, Dan is one of the stars of that Netflix show Heatwave. He's just being modest."

"Oh, yes," says Nigel, a spark of recognition going off. "It's been in our list for a while, hasn't it, dear?"

"It has," Kath agrees. She beams at Dan in a way that radiates pride, and he almost can't look at her. It's too sincere, too open. He wants to hide away from it. "That's lovely, Daniel, you must work very hard."

Luckily, Dan is saved from having to think of something appropriate to say instead of just crying on her shoulder by the arrival of a lanky man.

"Budge up," he tells Dan. He's got the same air of familiarity that Kath had, that _Phil_ had back when they met. It occurs to Dan that he's been chalking that up to Phil's media training, and the real answer may just be that this is the way he was raised to act. He already feels more comfortable here than he has at a table of his own family members for many, many years.

Dan scoots over, closer to Phil. Their thighs press together through their tight jeans, and Dan wonders if Phil can feel the heat radiating off him in waves. He kind of expects Phil to shuffle along the bench, too, but he stays where he is.

"Manners," Kath scolds as he folds himself into the booth beside Dan.

"Oh, right," says Martyn. He grins and offers a hand for Dan to shake. He has a loose grip, like he doesn't care to make a specific impression. Dan likes that, so used to too-firm handshakes and weird manly pats on the back from the people he interacts with at work. "Alright, mate?"

"Alright," says Dan. "I'm Daniel. You must be Martyn, unless you're Cornelia and another tall man is joining us."

"Don't think we can fit another around this table," Martyn says easily. "Nah, Corn's at home. She's feeling a bit ill, sends her love." The last part is directed to Kath and Nigel, who nod in eerie synchronicity.

"I'll have to give her scarf back on our way back," says Kath.

Their waitress arrives then, and Dan finds it entertaining to watch as three Lesters subtly compete to make her laugh while she takes everybody's drink order. He catches Nigel's eye and they exchange a small grin. Dan has never considered himself particularly quiet - he's more like the local class clown, no matter how old he gets - but he's content to sit back and let Phil and Martyn argue around him while Kath asks the waitress about her day.

She looks almost prepared for it when she turns to Dan, so he dimples up at her and says, "I like your nail polish."

"Thank you," she says, still smiling but looking more and more like she wishes she'd given this table to someone else. Dan takes pity on her, doesn't try to drag out the joke longer like he normally would.

"Wish I could pull off that colour," he adds, his heart pounding even though Phil's family probably won't judge him for it. "And, uh, I'll have a mojito, if that's okay?"

"If that's okay?" Phil murmurs into Dan's ear, making him shiver.

"Shut up," Dan whispers back, stepping on Phil's foot under the table. Phil kicks him back lightly.

"Absolutely vile," Martyn says in the sort of easy tone that comes from chirping people you love. He doesn't sound at all like he means it. Dan's shoulders tense anyway. Phil's grin flickers, like he notices.

"Shut up, Mar," Phil suggests, mildly enough that his parents can't reprimand him for it if they were the type to.

Martyn shrugs and starts talking to his mum about something that Dan can't follow, so he doesn't try to. Now that nobody is paying attention to them, Dan drops his hand to Phil's knee and squeezes. It's a thank you and a reassurance that he's fine, all in one.

With a small smile curling at the corners of his lips, Phil puts a hand over Dan's and leaves it there. His palm has got a very slight chill to it, like Phil is somehow cold despite being pressed against Dan in the corner of a booth.

They're practically holding hands. Dan turns his own hand over and links their fingers together in a fit of desire to say that he _is_ holding Phil's hand. Dan is holding a man's hand under a table in public, with that man's family chatting around them, and his heart is fucking pounding like he's trying to run a marathon. He hopes his palm isn't sweaty.

If it is, Phil shows no inclinations of pulling his hand back anyway.

As the evening goes on, Dan finds himself relaxing more and more. The Lesters are warm and funny people to be around, talking over each other comfortably and doing their best to include Dan in jokes. The food is good, too, which is always a core part of Dan's happiness.

But the fact that Phil hasn't let go of his hand this whole time is really what's making Dan feel at peace. Their dominant hands are free to eat with, so they just... don't pull away. 

Dan has a silly thought, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he always wants to eat on Phil's left. The mental image of them trying to be pressed this close together on their dominant sides, elbows knocking while they try to eat, is enough to make Dan swallow a giggle.

Phil's family don't ask him too many questions, but Dan finds himself offering the information anyway. He finds that he wants to impress them, make them think that maybe he's good enough for their son.

"I went to uni in Manchester," he says when Nigel says he misses the city sometimes. "I - didn't finish, I moved to Chicago."

"That's quite a long way to move," says Kath. "Whatever drew you there, love?"

For a moment, Dan thinks about lying. Surely Phil's parents would like him more if he was responsible, followed a job or even a relationship to America, but Phil is looking at him so curiously that he has to tell them the truth. 

"I wanted to pursue acting in America," says Dan. "And a friend in Chicago said I could stay in their spare room. Then they rented out the spare room before I got there and neglected to tell me, and I ended up couchsurfing for a bit until I could afford to go to L.A., which sucked." 

"That's impressive, actually," Martyn says around a mouthful of pasta.

"Manners," Kath scolds again, reaching across the table to swat lightly at Martyn's wrist. She gives Dan a warm smile. "He's right, Daniel, that was very brave of you."

It hadn't felt brave or impressive while it was happening. Dan's early twenties had felt like he was constantly on the edge of a cliff and he was just trying to dig his nails in and pull himself up. The long bouts of depression didn't make it any easier, since Dan would end up isolating himself, not showing up to work, or doing stupid shit just to feel something. 

Things didn't change for him in an instant. He didn't find overnight fame or anything like that. After years of staying on that cliff with small parts and long nights, he got lucky with a Netflix gig three years ago.

Still, he supposes it sounds impressive to people who don't know the full story, and it's certainly something to be proud of in any case. Broke on a stranger's sofa in a foreign country to doing a worldwide press tour in less than a decade isn't something Dan takes for granted. 

Dan shrugs instead of voicing his internal thoughts, smiling a little. "I miss Manchester too, sometimes, and I was only there for a year. I can't imagine how y'all feel."

"We do miss it occasionally," Nigel says. "But we like where we are now, don't we, dear?"

"Oh, it's perfect for us," says Kath, beaming at him with such obvious affection that it makes Dan's heart clench. He can't remember his mum ever looking at his dad like that. "And so beautiful, too! You should see it in the winter, Daniel."

"The Isle of Man, right?" Dan asks for clarification, and he smiles when the table agrees in a chaotic overlap of each other.

"Mum's right, it's really pretty in the winter," says Phil. "I never want to leave after Christmas."

Martyn snorts. "Sure, it's the Manx views, not the mince pies."

"It can be both!"

"What do you do for Christmas, love?" Kath asks, and Dan startles a bit at the question. He's quiet for a beat too long, maybe, because Phil squeezes his hand and responds for him.

"Mum," he says, almost sounding embarrassed, "it's been two weeks, stop trying to invite him to holidays."

"Just thought I'd ask, Philip," says Kath. She's just as cheerful as she was at the beginning of the night, and Dan thinks her smile actually grows when he starts blushing. "It's not like you've ever introduced us to a boy before, we thought it must be rather serious."

Honestly, Dan would love it to be serious. But it hasn't even been the two weeks Phil thinks it's been. They aren't on the same page at all right now. Dan feels confident they'll get there, but he doesn't want Phil to feel put on the spot now.

He rubs his thumb over the back of Phil's hand in a comforting gesture and grins sheepishly. "Ah, that's my bad, Kath. I'm only in town til Sunday and didn't want to miss a minute, to be honest."

"Where d'you live?" Martyn asks, beautifully giving Dan an out from the Christmas topic. 

"Atlanta," Phil answers for him. Dan wonders if Phil has always sounded so wistful when he says the name of Dan's city. The city that doesn't feel like home.

Martyn whistles low, through his teeth, and sympathetically says, "That sucks." It's that, more than anything, that makes Dan physically feel the ache of the Atlantic that's going to be between them. He leans a bit closer into Phil, like that'll help fill the gap that isn't there yet.

It does suck. Dan has finally figured out what he wants and who he wants it with, but his job is four thousand miles away.

Still, he knows what he wants. He knows that Phil, clearly, wants it too. That's a first step.

\--

Dan is feeling warm and loose from the cocktails he'd had with dinner and the easy acceptance of Phil's family. He sways into Phil's personal space on the pavement while Phil waves down a taxi and murmurs, "We gotta talk when we get to your place."

"Okay," Phil says, slow. His brow is furrowed in confusion or anxiety or some combination of the two, and Dan longs to reach out and smooth the lines with his thumb. 

He does remember where they are, though, and keeps his hands firmly in the pockets of his borrowed jacket.

The ride back to Phil's isn't very long, but it is quiet. Phil looks out his window the whole time, and Dan looks at Phil. He's so beautiful, it makes Dan's head spin that he could ever want the same thing as Dan.

Phil's family seemed to think Dan would be sticking around, in any case. Kath and Martyn both gave him hugs goodbye after they finished with Phil, and Nigel had squeezed his shoulder tightly in lieu of one. Dan can't believe how welcoming they were to the first man their son had ever brought home.

This certainty of how he feels, how he wants his life to go, is making Dan a bit stupid with bravery. He pulls out his phone and sends some very impulsive texts.

To Jaime, he says, **nothing major im just stupid! we'll talk abt it when ur here**. To his agent, he says, **if HW is ending can we look for work that's in the uk? we should hear back from the producers soon**. To his mum, he says, **There's something I need to tell you and I don't know if you'll still want me to come over on Saturday. It's a long story, but. Basically I'm gay.**

Dan's heart is in his throat. He turns off his phone before anyone can respond, refocusing on Phil's profile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to eve for anticipating the dinner scene The Most and cheerleading me through it even when i felt like i wanted to delete it all. love you lots!
> 
> and thank you to everyone for reading!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all! sorry for the delay on this one, it's been a hectic day for both me and my lovely beta.
> 
> next chapter up on monday! (we aren't wrapping up, yet.)
> 
> disclaimer on this: idk dan's family. i don't claim to know jack abt them or their dynamics aside from the information dan himself has given us.
> 
> read and reblog on tumblr [here!](https://dayevsphil.tumblr.com/post/187848872628/cant-breathe-when-you-touch-my-sleeve-chapter-8)

Coming back to Phil's apartment is something Dan could really get used to. It's still dimly lit when they get in, but Phil goes around turning on a couple of lamps and lighting some candles while Dan tries not to let Thor pull him to the floor once again.

"D'you want tea or anything?" Phil asks, rocking back and forth on his slippered feet like he's nervous. 

That's not fair. Dan should be the nervous one here. He shrugs off the borrowed jacket and hangs it up beside his hoodie. "Nah, I'm alright. I just need to talk to you."

Phil's face falls a bit further into anxiety, and Dan wonders what the hell is so scary about having a conversation. It's not like Phil knows that Dan has been a fucking idiot, after all, he's got nothing to worry about. 

"Sure, yeah," says Phil. He gestures awkwardly at his sofa. "Wanna... sit?"

"Sure," Dan echoes. He and Phil sit on opposite ends of the sofa, Dan's legs tucked up underneath him and Phil's crossed over each other. The space between them feels ridiculously large after spending all evening pressed thigh to thigh, but Dan isn't going to dwell on that. 

After a moment, where Dan unsuccessfully attempts to gather his thoughts, Phil clears his throat. "So, um. Is this a bad talk?"

His deep voice wobbles a bit, uncertain, and it clicks for Dan. 

"Oh, no," he says quickly, reaching out to press his fingers to the denim covering Phil's arm. "No, sorry, I wasn't trying to be ominous or whatever. I'm not breaking up with you."

Phil's shoulders visibly relax. Now he just looks bemused. "Okay," he says, "so what's all this about?"

"I'm just," Dan says, then stops. He has no idea how to phrase this without sounding like he's an oblivious idiot, but, hey. If the shoe fits. He gives Phil a sheepish grin and takes his hand back to fiddle with a loose string on the sofa cushion. "Er, okay. So here's the thing. I didn't know that we were going on _dates_, I thought we were just... hanging out. And I was coming back early to tell you that I want to be more than friends, but you... already thought we were. And that's embarrassing. Because I definitely would have kissed you by now if we'd been on the same page."

The expression on Phil's face is impossible to read when Dan starts talking, but by the end of it, his jaw is slack with dumbfounded disbelief.

"You," Phil says, slow, "thought I asked you to get coffee as a friend?"

Dan shrugs. "Yeah."

"I literally slid into your DMs," Phil points out.

"Yeah," Dan says again, because he's well aware that he hasn't been the most attuned to the situation. "I could tell that you were, like, maybe into me? But I wasn't really sure?"

"Oh my god."

"Hey," says Dan. He's fighting a laugh, and he can see Phil's lips twitching, too. "You could have made a move, y'know."

Phil breaks first, running a palm over his face as he laughs. "I thought you wanted to take things slow, Dan! I knew you were in the closet, yeah, it's not like I expected us to hold hands at the dog park."

"I was in the closet," Dan says. "To myself, as well. But I figured my shit out, kind of, and that's why I wanted to _see_ you, I didn't expect -"

"What do you mean you were in the closet to yourself? Dan, you couldn't seriously have been unaware that you're into me. _I'm_ aware that you're into me. And I'm not very good at this, usually."

"Yeah, okay, but I was repressed!"

It looks like Phil can't decide if he wants to bury his face in his palms or laugh. "Dan," he says, "you didn't think to tell me any of this?"

"Well," says Dan. "I blame the repression. Besides, you have a functioning vocal box, and I didn't hear you say the word date at all until tonight."

"I thought I was being so obvious about what I wanted." Phil shakes his head and looks up at the ceiling for a brief second, as though praying for patience. "I was flirting with you from the get go, you spoon."

"I know," Dan admits. "I just wasn't _sure_, okay, and then I was sure that you were flirting but I wasn't sure about _me_ and, like, I wanted to be fair to you?"

"You wanted to be fair to me," Phil repeats.

With a little poke to Phil's shoulder to get him looking over again, Dan nods. "Yeah. But I know that I'm gay now."

"I don't know how to be more clear about this," says Phil, "but I wouldn't have cared if you were going through a fucking sexuality crisis, Dan, I would have helped you. We could have talked about all this."

There's a beat of silence, where it becomes abundantly obvious to everyone present that Dan did not consider that. "Oh."

"You're so stupid," Phil says, sounding almost awed. "Like. Mind-meltingly stupid."

Dan swats at Phil's arm and pouts. "You didn't even try to kiss me when I was drunk and _shirtless_ in bed with you, Phil! I think everybody in this room is pretty stupid." He pauses, then shakes his head. "Except Thor. He's perfect, and has never done anything wrong in his life."

"That's true," Phil agrees, flapping his hand right back at Dan but not actually connecting the slap. "And shut up, I didn't want you to regret something you did _drunk_, I like you!"

"I like you, too!" Dan exclaims, matching Phil's volume and grinning wide.

The laugh that's startled out of Phil is enough to make Dan laugh, too. They're both just giggling hopelessly at each other and at themselves for a little while, Thor looking at them from his bed with a curious head tilt. The laughter peters off naturally, and Phil is just smiling over at Dan with half-lidded eyes that sparkle in the fairy lights. 

It's quiet for a moment while Dan just looks at Phil in a way he didn't know he's been allowed to do. Phil allows it, but not for very long.

"Hey," Phil says, voice quiet and deep and inviting.

Dan waits to see if he's going to say anything else, if he's going to voice what he's thinking rather than walking that line of letting Dan decide. He doesn't, but that's okay. Dan is all too happy to make the move, now that he trusts himself to. 

"Hey yourself," Dan murmurs back, smiling. He shuffles over on the sofa until he's pressed against Phil's side once again, except this time with both legs thrown carelessly over Phil's lap.

It doesn't take any effort at all, from there. Dan curls a hand into the lapel of Phil's denim jacket and leans in close, his heart beating loud enough that he's sure Phil can hear it. 

Phil's hands hover for a moment before they land on Dan's thigh and the side of his neck. His thumb brushes over Dan's pulse point, and now he can _definitely_ tell that Dan's heart is going wild. Still, he just waits, his big eyes flickering down to Dan's mouth.

Dan could probably wait it out, any other time, tease Phil until he caves and closes the gap between them, but he wants this too much to be a dick about it. He smiles, instinctive, and pulls at Phil's jacket to bring him even closer. It's so easy to press their lips together, exhaling shakily through his nose as he does.

The last time Dan kissed a guy was a few years ago now, at a cast party for a shitty play he did in downtown Los Angeles. He's kissed girls since then, sure, and they're always nice enough to kiss, but.

Maybe it's how long it's been, or something, but Dan could swear that it's never felt like this before.

Sparks run up his spine and his eyes fall closed as Phil hums contentedly against his lips. Phil's hand is rubbing slow, deliberate circles over Dan's outer thigh, and it's so relaxing that Dan almost startles when Phil pulls away for a half second, comes back for a deeper kiss. He's tilting Dan's jaw with his thumb and his fingers are splayed over the side of Dan's throat and, god, another person's tongue in his mouth has literally never felt so good in his life.

Dan can't believe there's a version of him that lived his entire life without kissing Phil Lester, that shied away from this in order to feel normal. This _is_ normal, and it's all he ever wants to do again. 

It would be ridiculously simple to clamber into Phil's lap, or onto the floor in front of him, but Dan is actually content where he is right now.

He pulls back from the kiss with a soft noise, grinning when Phil tries to follow him.

"Y'know what, I'm glad I had my gay panic in peace," he informs Phil, who just seems confused about why they're not kissing anymore.

"Mm?" Phil hums, clearly distracted. "Why's that?"

His thumb brushes against Dan's Adam's apple, and Dan feels a full-body shiver run through him at the light touch. A blush creeping up his face, Dan smacks Phil's hand away.

"Stop that," Dan whines. "That's more than enough neck touching for one night, mate, keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times."

"You don't like me touching your neck?" Phil asks, his blue-green-yellow eyes looking dark in the dim lighting. "Or it's too much?"

"It's just sensitive," says Dan. Which doesn't answer Phil's question, except for how it definitely does. Phil's little smirk tells Dan all he needs to know about how that information has been received. "And I'll kick you in the balls if you touch it again tonight."

"Kinky," Phil deadpans before he makes a big show of wrapping his arm around Dan's waist. The movement pulls them even closer together - Dan might as well be in Phil's lap at this point. "Better?" 

"For now, yeah," says Dan. "And I'm glad I had my gay panic alone because it means I'm not just going to fuck you and run like I usually do. I wanna stick around, if you'll have me."

"I introduced you to my family," says Phil. "I think I've made it pretty clear where I stand."

"Maybe," says Dan, sliding his hand under Phil's jacket to toy with the collar of his shirt, "but after this mess, I wanna hear you say it."

Phil gives him an exasperated sort of smile and rolls his eyes, but his fingers are tapping against Dan's knee in an erratic, nervous sort of pattern. Dan wonders why Phil is always so hesitant about saying what he wants, but now isn't the time to delve into that.

"Dan," says Phil. "I want you to stick around."

"Good luck getting rid of me now, bitch," Dan crows, muffling Phil's surprised laugh with his own mouth.

If it's been years since Dan kissed another man, it's been nigh on a fucking decade since he kissed one without intending on getting his hands in their pants immediately. It's nice, making out on Phil's sofa with no place to be and no rush to a finish line. Dan moves his hands over Phil's chest, up his neck, into his hair, all while figuring out exactly how Phil likes to be kissed.

Phil is confident here, like in most things Dan has seen him do. His cool palm has long since slipped under Dan's shirt, pressing to the small of his back and soothing some of the overwhelming heat flaring just under his skin. He runs his tongue along Dan's like he already knows how to weaken him at the knees.

Eventually, though, they're reminded that an outside world exists. Dan has decided to sink his teeth just that little bit into Phil's lower lip and it gets a low noise out of Phil, which is enough to get their kiss broken by a sudden lapful of dog.

Thor barks at them, clearly unimpressed with being ignored, and Dan has to laugh.

"Hey, you," he giggles, scratching behind Thor's ears and helping him settle so he isn't in danger of falling off Dan's knees. "Look at you, cutie patootie, just wanna join the cuddle, huh?"

Phil exhales a laugh of his own, a little too close to Dan's ear. "Jesus. Sorry, he's a bit needy."

"Same," says Dan. "I don't mind."

The loss of Phil's hand on the small of his back _is_ something Dan minds, at least until Phil cards his fingers through Dan's hair instead.

"I should take him outside," says Phil, a little apologetic.

"I'll pick a movie," Dan offers.

Phil smiles at him, eyes crinkling with it. Dan wants to kiss those thin lines at Phil's temple, so he does. "Sounds like a plan."

It takes a bit of effort to wiggle out from between Thor and Phil when neither of them seem inclined to help, but Dan flops on his back on the sofa once he does and laughs, feeling giddy with it. Phil leans over him to steal another lingering kiss.

"Mm, have a good walk," Dan mumbles against Phil's lips, resisting the urge to reach for him and keep him there.

Phil pulls back, still smiling at Dan. "We will. Don't pick a rom-com, alright?"

Honestly, Dan wasn't going to. He's a little surprised that Phil is offering an opinion without any prompting, though, so he raises his eyebrows.

"Why not?"

"Because I feel like I'm living one," Phil says dryly. "I'll be back in a bit, gotta get some of his energy out so he isn't doing the zoomies at three in the morning. You can take a shower if you want to, steal some pjs, whatever."

"Thanks, I'll gladly add more of your wardrobe to mine," says Dan. He smirks. "You want me to grab _my_ jammies for you to steal?"

"Yeah," says Phil, easy.

Dan's heart does a little flip. "Okay, I will. Hurry back."

"I'll do what I can," says Phil. He grabs Thor's lead and then just looks at Dan for a moment, like he's memorizing the picture Dan makes, sprawled out on the sofa like he owns it. Only Thor whining at his feet shakes him out of it. "Right. Leaving. Be back soon."

Dan stretches out, feeling warmth curl his toes, and grins like an idiot at the ceiling. After he's done quite enough of that, he decides to get up and find pyjamas for both of them.

It's annoying to dig through his suitcase, because he doesn't exactly _fold_ things when he's living out of it, but at least Phil isn't here to see the mess before it's packed away again. He grabs his well-worn Game of Thrones pyjama pants and doesn't bother with a shirt. All the ones in his bags are over Phil's fifteen quid preference, and Dan has absolutely no ulterior motives in hoping Phil doesn't grab one of his own shirts.

There's a dresser and a wardrobe in the small space of Phil's bedroom area, along with a big trunk at the foot of his bed. Dan isn't sure where to look, doesn't want to snoop. Well, okay, he does want to snoop, but only if Phil is in the room when he does so he can tease him in real time.

He's saved the trouble of looking through drawers by noticing some clothes kicked half under Phil's bed on the side by the window. Dan picks them up and sniffs them. He deems the clothes an acceptable level of clean before he starts to get changed. The cotton shorts are comfortable and the Friends t-shirt is so big that it surely hangs off Phil, even with his broader shoulders.

If Dan spends more time than usual fixing his hair and checking his teeth in the mirror, the houseplants are his only witnesses.

He fucks around on Phil's smart TV to find something to watch that isn't so interesting that they can't make out during it if they decide to. He gets up again and makes tea. While the kettle boils, he gives a droopy succulent some water from the tap. It just makes sense to do the same for every plant, after that.

What Dan doesn't do is turn on his phone. 

He'll have to face it eventually, he knows that. He can't exist in a limbo where he hasn't come out to his mother so long as he doesn't check if she's responded. But right now he feels so safe and comfortable in Phil's home that he can't bring himself to have a panic attack just yet. So he keeps watering the plants, changes his mind twice on the film choice, and leaves his phone in the pocket of Phil's denim jacket, which is still hung up by the door.

By the time Phil gets back from his long walk with Thor, Dan has got mugs of tea steaming on the coffee table and has stolen Phil's duvet from the bed to wrap himself up in. He grins up at Phil from where he's curled on the couch.

"Good walk?" he asks, lips twitching when Phil outright laughs at him.

"Thor sure thought it was," Phil says, grinning wide as he shrugs his own jacket off. "Made yourself at home, have you?"

"Yeah," says Dan, unabashed.

Phil's grin softens into something that makes Dan want to blush. He leans over the back of the sofa to kiss Dan's forehead. "Good. Gonna get Thor a treat, hang on."

It's a quiet, comfortable sort of night. Dan doesn't think he's ever done this before, just cuddled up with someone and watched a badly-rated thriller that has both of them snickering into their mugs. Phil, rather unfortunately, does put on a shirt when he gets changed into Dan's pyjamas, but that might actually be a good thing. Dan is barely keeping his hands from wandering as it is.

Phil starts yawning before the movie is even over, folding himself closer and resting his head on Dan's chest. He seems like he's in very real danger of conking out by the time the credits are finished rolling, so Dan shakes him gently back to awareness.

"Hey," he murmurs, his voice sounding strange in the sudden quiet of the flat. "Let's go to bed."

"Okay," Phil agrees sleepily.

Despite the agreement, Dan has to physically guide Phil into a standing position. He squints at Dan and then sighs, rubbing at one of his eyes.

"You okay?"

"Gotta take out my contacts," Phil says. He pulls the duvet around Dan's shoulders and leans up to give him a slow, sweet kiss. "I'll be back, okay? Don't go anywhere."

Dan has to laugh. He never wants to be anywhere else again. "Where would I go?"

"I dunno," Phil says with a sleepy, beautiful grin. "Maybe aliens will kidnap you while I'm busy fingering my eyeballs."

"Hm, truly hate the way you said that," says Dan.

"I'll say what I please in my own home."

With another grin, Phil disappears into the bathroom. Dan waddles with the duvet until he can collapse in Phil's bed, breathing in the concentrated smell of cologne and shampoo and sweat and detergent. It surrounds him here, more than it does anywhere else in the flat, and Dan already knows it's going to be a struggle to leave this bed in the morning.

Phil is humming to himself when he comes back, a soft little tune that Dan doesn't recognise. The lamps get flicked off one by one, the candles blown out, until the whole flat is dark and a body is curling around Dan's under the covers.

"You're so warm," Phil says, sounding genuinely thrilled about it. He rubs his nose into Dan's collarbone and presses a kiss there, just above the scoop neck of his borrowed shirt. "I love that."

"Good," Dan yawns. He kisses Phil's forehead and wraps an arm around his waist to keep him close. "Now, shhh. It's bedtime."

\--

Dan can't sleep.

It doesn't seem to matter that he's got a lightly-snoring man wrapped around him or that he's barely slept in days, his brain absolutely refuses to shut off.

He untangles himself from Phil, slow enough that he doesn't stir at all, and tries to feel his way through the flat without the use of light. His eyes have adjusted enough to the darkness that he doesn't injure himself, but he does trip a couple of times. That's probably inevitable, with the combination of his clown feet and Phil's things strewn everywhere.

There are a couple of jackets on the wall hooks, so Dan feels in the pockets and grabs the keys from one before donning the other. He spots a pair of eyes watching him from the floor, and he presses his finger to his lips like Thor could possibly understand.

Dan shoves his shoes on and takes the keys with him. The last thing he wants to do is get locked out on the London pavement in the middle of the night.

It isn't too cold out, but Dan is glad for the jacket. His borrowed shorts are letting far too much of a breeze in. He just sits on Phil's stoop for a long moment, breathing in the pollution of the city, before he finally acknowledges the weight in his jacket pocket that had him staring at the ceiling while Phil slept soundly.

His hands are shaking, but not from the chill of the night air, as he reaches into his pocket and turns on his phone.

The time it takes for Dan's phone to turn on and new texts to come in is only half a minute at most, but Dan can feel nervous sweat gathering at his temples. He waits until the vibrations of delayed texts have stopped before he takes the phone out of his pocket.

He's got a couple of messages from Jaime and Patrick and Amy, and surely his costars and agent are telling him important things he should care about, but he's only really looking for one thing. He taps once, twice.

Nothing. Nothing from his mum.

Dan feels a lump in his throat, staring at the bolded read receipt under his last text.

**Basically I'm gay.**

He's not sure what possesses him to do it. The fact is, though, that there's only one person on the planet who could have an accurate guess about what his parents are thinking right now. Without even thinking about the time of night, Dan hits call on the first name on his alphabetical contact list.

The line rings three, four, five times, and Dan has resigned himself to leaving an awkward voicemail when the sixth ring is cut off with a loud yawn into the receiver.

"Daniel?" his brother asks, tired and bewildered and, fuck, this was a bad idea.

Dan can hardly hang up on him now, though. He laughs, a little watery, and looks up at the dark sky. "Hi, kid."

"Do you know what time it is in Switzerland?" asks Adrian. "I know you're in a different time zone, but you could look a bloody clock before you call."

"You're in Switzerland?" God, Dan truly doesn't know anything about his brother.

"Can I help you?" Adrian asks pointedly instead of answering the rather obvious question. 

They're not close, but. Adrian grew up under the same roof that Dan did. He'll understand why Dan called him, if Dan can only manage to get the word past his lips again. At least if Adrian reacts badly, Dan won't have to work very hard to cut him out of his life. He chokes on a laugh that comes out more like a sob and pulls his cold knees to his chest.

"Daniel?" Adrian asks again, sounding more awake now. "Hey, did something happen?"

"I just," Dan gets out, almost gasping with the force of it. He's not even tearing up, but it wouldn't take much to push him over that edge. "I. Adrian, I'm gay."

There's a beat of silence. Then, Adrian says, "Okay. Thanks for telling me. Are you on a ledge or something, mate?" 

Dan laughs despite himself at the morbid joke. He didn't expect that from his little brother, who's still more or less thirteen forever in Dan's mind even though they see each other every Christmas. "Fuck. No, I just, I told mum earlier. Well, okay, I texted mum earlier, and she left me on read."

"That's shit," says Adrian. "You alright?"

"I'll be better when she fucking says something," Dan says, staring at one of the streetlights across the road until the glare is imprinted on his vision. "Do you think..."

It's not a question. Dan doesn't even bother finishing it, but he doesn't have to. Adrian grew up there, too.

"I don't know," Adrian says bluntly. "I'm pretty sure mum will be cool."

Yeah. So is Dan.

"Hope so," Dan says instead of the terrifying truth hanging over the connection between them. He clears his throat, trying to get the lump out of it. "So, like, come hang out in Georgia sometime if I'm not allowed to come to Christmas. I can't mail vegan cookies."

"Don't be a twat," says Adrian. "You can mail them just fine."

Dan laughs. "Fuck off."

"You fuck off, it's four in the goddamn morning." Adrian laughs, too, and this whole call feels ridiculous.

"Sorry for waking you," Dan says, scuffing his toe against the step below him. 

"Sorry our parents are shit sometimes," says Adrian, dry. Dan had no idea his brother was this funny. Maybe he should call more. There's another long moment of quiet. It should be awkward, maybe, but something about the surreal quality of Dan's whole day and the insomnia leading up to it just makes everything a little hazy. Eventually, Adrian speaks. "You know, I think we should really aim to refuse to inherit dysfunction. We need to learn new ways of living instead of just repeating what we've been through, you know?"

Dan blinks. Another laugh is bubbling up in his chest, but he doesn't let it escape. "Er, what?"

"Something I read," Adrian says. "Can't remember who said it, since it's four in the fucking morning, did I mention?"

They're not close. They didn't grow up together as much as they grew up near each other in the same home, the same mess. But Adrian's faux-deep pontificating makes Dan realise that they might have grown into adults with similar interests and habits. He doesn't know what to do with that information, but it makes him feel the weirdest sense of pride.

"You mentioned," says Dan. He has no idea how he'd ever try to explain this dynamic to Phil. Maybe Christmas with the Lesters _is_ the best option. "I get the message, I'll fuck off. And I'll try not to, uh, inherit dysfunction or whatever."

"Yeah, alright," Adrian says, then pauses. "If... if it is, like, bad. I'll come to Georgia for Christmas instead."

Fuck. Now Dan can absolutely feel tears welling up. "You don't have to do that. Imagine how grandma would feel if neither of us came home."

"She can come, too, after she's done whooping dad's arse." Adrian cackles at his own joke. It's a familiar enough sound, one Dan hears himself make all the time, and in this sleep-deprived state, Dan thinks it might be the only thing of worth they got from their father.

"Thanks, kid," Dan says, wiping at his eyes. 

"Yeah," Adrian says on a loud yawn. "You gonna be alright?"

"Yeah," Dan echoes. He swallows hard. "I'm in London, actually. At - at my boyfriend's. So I'm not, like, alone in crisis or anything."

"Well, fuck, go wake him up and stop bothering me, then."

Dan chuckles and takes another deep breath. It's easier, now, some of the weight lifted off his chest. They aren't really the type to say it as a sign off, but Dan is full to the brim with affection and guilt right now, so. "Love you."

"You, too," says Adrian, audibly taken aback. After a moment, the line goes dead without any further niceties between them. Dan isn't offended.

He sits outside for a few more minutes before he feels okay enough to go back inside. He takes the stairs carefully and lets himself into Phil's flat. Thor makes a little rumble of a noise but doesn't bark, thankfully.

"Shhh, it's just me," Dan whispers. He hangs the jacket up and kicks his shoes off, patting Thor's soft head on his way back to bed.

It's safe and warm under the blankets. Dan wraps his arms around Phil's pliant body and pulls him closer, needing human contact in a way he can't explain. He doesn't think Phil minds too much, if the way he unconsciously grabs at Dan in an octopus hold is any indication.

Dan closes his eyes, buries his nose in Phil's hair, and lets himself sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so so so much to my best gal for being the single most motivating cheerleader ever! this literally would not exist without eve. 
> 
> thank you to everyone for hanging in there for this one!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! i hope you like this one. it's a little longer than usual. i remember having stuff to say in this note, but i've forgotten it all. c'est la fucking vie 
> 
> new chapter up on friday!
> 
> read and reblog this chapter on tumblr [here!](https://dayevsphil.tumblr.com/post/187905145483/cant-breathe-when-you-touch-my-sleeve-chapter-9)

Dan wakes up alone. He's stretched out on Phil's sheets, mostly on his stomach, and he buries his face in a pillow to hide from the afternoon sunlight streaming through Phil's small windows. He listens carefully, but he can't hear Phil shuffling around the room or anything.

He's not overly worried, really. This is Phil's place. It would be next level weird for him to cut and run. 

Sure enough, when Dan blinks away the spots in his vision and looks around the flat, he sees a sticky note on Phil's headboard. **Had to go to work! Won't say your name on the radio lol**, it says, and Dan feels a surge of fondness and embarrassment.

He rolls onto his back and rubs at his face, trying to wipe the stupid grin off even though nobody's here to see it. He grins wider when he remembers that someone else _is_ here, actually.

"Thor," he calls out, not bothering to sit up. "C'mere, buddy!" 

The jangling of Thor's collar and the rapid taps of his claws on the hardwood floor let him know that the dog is approaching.

Dan looks over and sees Thor sitting at the side of the bed, head cocked and ears perked. He might actually start to cry; he is obsessed with this dog. 

"Hey there," he coos, patting the bed next to him in invitation. Thor just keeps looking at him. If Dan were to assign a human emotion to Thor's vibe right now, he'd say the dog looked dubious. "C'mon up, little guy, I won't bite."

Thor jumps up with his stumpy legs and Dan laughs delightedly at the height he can manage when he's got a running start. He snuffles into Dan's borrowed shirt and gives him a bunch of sloppy kisses.

Truly, there is no better way to wake up. Dan is in heaven right now.

He gives Thor a bunch of pats and coos nonsense at him for a little while. He's not really in a hurry to go anywhere. In fact, he wouldn't get out of bed at all if it weren't for his bladder starting to get angry with him. Dan sighs and gives Thor a kiss on his tiny forehead.

"I gotta get up," he laments. He blinks at Thor. 

Thor blinks back.

"You need to get up, too," he informs the dog very solemnly. 

Thor puts his front paws down like he's getting ready to play and lolls his tongue out, smiling at Dan.

Dan clutches at his chest dramatically and fumbles around for his phone. He needs to capture this moment. He notices that he's got missed texts, missed calls, but he shoves the spike of anxiety to the side in order to focus on getting cute photos and videos of Thor. He takes a bunch of the corgi alone, giggling to himself the whole time, and then pulls Thor close to him to take a few selfies as well.

After brushing his teeth and taking a quick piss, Dan lies back down and looks through the camera roll. He's smiling at his phone and petting one of Thor's soft ears. They're all super cute pictures, good enough to post if they weren't so laden in implications.

Two photos - one of them grinning wide at the camera and a follow-up where Dan's face is scrunched in laughter as Thor gives him a surprise kiss to his nose - get messaged to Phil instead of posted. 

It's almost as good, really. After a beat, he sends the photos to Jaime and Patrick as well. He's already talked to them about everything, more or less, and he just wants to share the joy he's feeling right now to people who get it. His thumb hesitates. After a moment of consideration, he sends just the silly picture to Adrian.

Adrian responds with a knife emoji, followed by a heart eyes emoji.

They're never going to be like Phil and his brother, working together and razzing each other over dinner, but that's okay. Dan feels a little bit of softness in his chest, easing some of that decades-old guilt. Maybe they can, at least, be more than the strangers they are now.

Spurred on by something as simple as his brother replying immediately, Dan holds his breath and opens the text chain with his mum.

**Blimey dear that must be a load off after all this time! Of course I still want to see you on Saturday... I love you with my whole heart and always will xx.**

Fuck. He's not going to cry. He won't cry. Not here. Dan inhales lungfuls of air in gasps, trying not to let them turn into raspy sobs. Thor makes an inquisitive noise and noses at Dan's hand.

"I'm okay," he whispers, even if he isn't quite sure that's true. He makes a bunch of typos as he replies to her, just a short **love you too** that takes him an entire minute to get right. He doesn't want to make a big deal over this, even though it is a big deal, so he just adds a heart emoji and buries his face in Thor's soft fur. 

His phone buzzes a few times, but Dan ignores it for a little while. He feels safe in Phil's bed, Thor in his arms, and he doesn't want to face the world again until he feels a bit less fragile. Eventually, though, Thor wiggles out of his grasp and bounds off the bed in search of a toy.

Jaime and Patrick have both responded to the dog selfies, Jaime with a string of barely-comprehensible emotional texts and Patrick with a single exclamation point iMessage reaction.

Phil has sent him a selfie in return, wearing radio headphones and a pout. **Hate that I'm at work!!!!!!!!**, he captions it. Dan hates that, too. He sends a quick shot of Thor on the other side of the flat with the caption, **abandoned by both of u**. 

By the time he circles back to his mum, he isn't really sure what to expect. She isn't the type to wax poetic about her feelings, none of them are, so he doesn't anticipate another round of affection and love and pride right this second. Maybe in her goodbye text when he heads to the continent. Not right away.

Sure enough, she's said, **Why don't you & I grab lunch in the city on Saturday? I've been meaning to try this new sushi bar... xx**. Dan's heart sinks. 

It's okay, he reminds himself. His mum loves him. Adrian loves him. They both said so.

His mum not wanting him to come to the house anymore speaks volumes to Dan. He expected this, anyway - his dad barely wanted to see him before this, Dan's always been nothing but a physical reminder of his wasted youth, and it isn't shocking that he doesn't want to see Dan now.

Dan lies back down and covers his head with Phil's duvet. He'll let himself be sad, just for a minute, for the loss. This is the first relationship he has to cut off if he wants to live authentically, move forward as a gay man who doesn't hate himself, and it hits hard. Maybe he'll let himself be angry, after this. Then, he'll get out of bed and start living the authentic, quietly proud life that he's only ever dreamed of.

It's okay. But, right now, it stings a bit.

\--

By the time Thor's ears perk up and he runs to the door, a clear indication that Phil is home, Dan has well and truly gone through some stages of grief and landed on repression. He's been playing Guild Wars and idly tidying Phil's flat throughout the day, lazy with the impromptu day off as he is. Thor follows him around and Dan plies him with more treats than he thinks Phil would approve of.

Dan feels a little sheepish when Phil comes in and he's just lounging on the sofa with his laptop and a pair of Phil's ridiculous slippers on his feet. The flat looks better than it had last night, but Dan has done fuck all with himself. He could have at least showered, he supposes.

"Hey," he says, tugging an earphone out and giving Phil a quick glance. "Sorry, I'm raiding, I'll give you attention in a second."

"Hi, Dan, my day was good," Phil says dryly. "Thanks for asking." 

"You signed up for this," Dan informs him, not taking his eyes off the screen again. He can hear Phil enthusiastically greeting Thor, which makes him smile. "I did make dinner, 's in the oven."

"You cook?" Phil sounds far too surprised, in Dan's opinion. 

Dan's character gets murked, and he shuts his laptop with a little huff of a noise. Normally he'd wait out the respawn and keep playing, but he's got more important things to focus on. "No, not really. I know how to throw a bunch of stuff in a pot or dish until it's food."

He gets a proper look at Phil while he peeks in the oven and feels even more like maybe he should have gotten dressed. 

It's not like he's dressed up nicely or anything - he's wearing the corgi jumper that he interviewed Dan in and a pair of Vans that are surely on their last legs - but the fact that he _is_ dressed gives him a head start on Dan. He looks a little tired, and Dan wonders if it's comfort or a distinct lack of it that has Phil's shoulders hunched forward more than usual.

"It smells good," Phil informs him, smiling a bit. "You didn't have to do that, y'know."

"Shut up, I wanted to," says Dan. 

"I don't think I've come home to food cooking since I lived with my parents," Phil says, his hands inside out in his jean pockets. "I, uh, better not get used to it, huh?" 

That definitely is a problem. The elephant in the room, that Dan can't just stay here forever. Dan sighs and stands, carefully stepping around the sofa so he doesn't trip on Thor. He comes close to wrap his arms around Phil's shoulders, smiling when Phil immediately takes hold of his waist like they're dancing.

"Hi, Phil," Dan mocks softly. "Good to see you, how was your day?"

Phil laughs. "Alright. Better now."

"Good," says Dan, and then he kisses Phil. It hasn't even been a full day since he did it last, but he hums and arches into it like it's been months.

They're making up for preemptive lost time. Dan is distracted, though, even when Phil licks into his mouth and pulls him closer. He can't stop thinking about the call he'd made to Amy earlier, the things his agent had said to him. 

Netflix announces renewals and cancellations whenever it pleases, not on any sort of set schedule, so Dan will have to live in limbo for a little while. Amy doesn't know how long, exactly, but she promised him to at least find him a British film or series to do in the space between seasons. She called him an idiot, but she agreed to it.

Dan is wondering if he should tell Phil about that conversation. He spends half a minute tossing the possibilities around in his head while Phil sucks on his tongue, his lip.

This is so stupid. Dan pulls back from the kiss. He laughs a bit and puts a palm on Phil's chest to stop him from coming back for more. It warms Dan, knowing that Phil doesn't want to stop kissing him.

"Down, boy," he jokes, and Phil rolls his eyes.

"I don't like this habit you have of interrupting us," says Phil. His cool hands slip under Dan's borrowed Friends shirt. His thumbs trace mirroring shapes just under Dan's ribcage. Now _that_ is distracting. "You could just let me keep kissing you."

"I could," Dan agrees. "But I've got shit to say, y'know?"

Phil grins at him, exasperated in a way that Dan thinks he could get used to. "I've noticed, Dan, that you always have shit to say. And I'd love to listen. Any other time."

"Rude," says Dan. There's no real heat to it, since Phil is right. "It's just that I almost didn't tell you something important because I didn't want to get your hopes up or sound like a freak, and then I remembered the disaster that _not_ talking became last time, so, fuck it."

Even though he's already had experience with watching Phil's eyes go neutral and guarded, it's still a bit of a weird thing to watch happen up close. 

It's not even that Phil is a particularly good actor, it's just that he's clearly so practiced in hiding his reactions to things that he can switch it on in an instant. Dan huffs a bit and pokes at Phil's cheek.

"None of that," he scolds.

"None of what?" Phil asks. He's smiling now, though. "What's so important?"

"I talked to my agent," says Dan. "Things are up in the air until we know if we're getting a fourth season, but. I'm thinking about moving to London if we aren't."

Phil's smile goes absolutely blinding, but he sounds suspicious when he says, "Really? That's something you want?"

"I always wanted to live here," Dan says with a little shrug. "Just got lucky in America and ended up staying. Nothing specific was really drawing me back here, I just knew London was always a 'someday' thing. Every time I come back for Christmas I remember how much I like it here." Dan pauses, then jokes, "It's not all about you, y'know."

It kind of is. The timing of it, at least, but Phil doesn't have to know that.

"Yeah, alright," Phil says, outright beaming at Dan now. "Makes sense to me, it's a way better place to live than Atlanta."

Dan laughs. "Atlanta is fine, you jealous bitch."

"I guess," says Phil. He presses a couple of soft kisses to Dan's jaw. Dan is ready to get carried away again before he adds, "It must be hard being so far from your family, as well. You'll get to see them more."

He knows that Phil is only trying to motivate him into staying without actively using himself as a reason, but Dan still grimaces.

"I'll probably see them about the same amount, honestly," he says. "Except my grandma, I'm sure I'll have tea with her every once in a while."

"Don't be silly, I'm sure they'd be excited," says Phil.

That's a very easy thing for Phil to say. Dan can't help the face he pulls at the idea of his family being excited that he's nearby. "They really won't. My parents aren't like yours, Phil, and my brother definitely isn't."

Phil cocks his head and blinks. Dan almost laughs at how eerily similar the action looks to Thor's confusion. 

"Well, I know nobody's family is perfect," Phil says, squeezing Dan's waist. "I just figured you'd like to be closer to them."

"No," Dan says honestly. "I mean, it's not like it's a reason _not_ to live in London. Where I am in relation to my family doesn't really affect my decision either way, TBH."

He kind of expects Phil to keep arguing with him about it. Dan only reached out to his mum about getting together in the first place after Phil got all disapproving about how little Dan sees them. Maybe he just takes Dan's word for it this time, though, because all he says is an easy, "Okay."

That's all it takes, really. Phil's agreement, even if he doesn't understand. Dan has already told this guy more about himself than anyone else he knows, and he can feel the words bubbling uncomfortably in his throat.

"I don't actually want to talk about this," says Dan, "but, like, okay, I came out to my family and only some of them are handling it well."

Actual understanding dawns on Phil's face, and he just nods. 

"We won't talk about it, then," he says. Like it's that simple. "Let's eat. I'm gonna take Thor to the park afterwards if you want to come with us."

Dan leans in for a grateful kiss that lingers a bit too long. Phil's hands travel further up his shirt, tracing along Dan's ribs and making him shiver. "Thanks," he murmurs into the barely-there space between their mouths. "I'll come with you guys."

For as long as Dan has known about commitment issues, he's known that he has them. With personal projects, with schoolwork, with his own sense of self. It's hard for him to settle on something, harder still to follow through. He's felt it with the women he's dated, too, but he'd already known there was an underlying issue that made it impossible for him to say, 'yeah, okay, this could be something I do long-term'.

Now he's making out with a man who he's _pretty sure_ is his boyfriend, even if they hadn't actually said that word, talking about sharing dinner and dog walks and clothes, and Dan has never done this before, and he knows that he's committing to something just by being here right now.

He waits for that moment of panic so he can whack it aside with some logic, but. It never comes.

Huh.

\--

When they head to bed later that night, it isn't because Phil has almost passed out on the sofa again. They'd been ignoring a film for about an hour to snog, and Phil's perpetually cold hands had started wandering about five minutes into that.

Dan had managed to handle Phil's hands under his shirt, in his hair, on his thighs, even brushing the side of his neck, all without major issues. When Phil had decided to outright grope his ass through his too-tight jeans, though, Dan's brain had short circuited. So he'd dragged Phil across the room and pulled him down in a tangle of limbs and laughter as they accidentally elbowed and kneed at each other.

They're not exactly graceful people, but Dan can't complain much with Phil's hands in his back pockets and Phil's mouth on his jaw.

Dan's breathing already feels too loud in the softly lit room, small windows not letting much background noise through at all, and Phil isn't even doing much of anything to him yet.

The part of Dan's brain that exists only to remind him that he's attracted to men has literally never been so loud. He'd foolishly assumed that admitting it to himself and other people would shut it the fuck up, but instead it is outright screaming at him.

_You're so fucking gay!_ it reminds him, as if it's yodeling from the top of a mountain. 

Yeah, Dan thinks, he is, he's aware, he's currently straddling a guy he really likes and mouthing at his neck to try and get his breathing as ragged as Dan's is. He doesn't need the commentary.

Still, it keeps shouting, and it only gets louder when Phil tangles one hand in his hair and tugs him back up for an open-mouthed kiss.

_He's kissing you! AmazingPhil is kissing you!_ that part of his mind is chanting, and in the short break between their lips meeting, Dan can't help but murmur a, "Shut up."

Phil pauses. Dan realises he's said that out loud and promptly wants to die.

"I didn't say anything," says Phil. His voice is low and amused, and Dan feels a renewed spark of heat up his spine. 

"Not you," Dan says. 

Raising his eyebrows, Phil makes a point to look around the flat as best he can without dislodging Dan from his hips. "Uh huh. Y'know, I always knew this place was haunted. I just figured I'd be the one to make friends with the ghosts."

"You're ridiculous," says Dan, but he can't stop himself from smiling.

"I'm not the one talking to ghosts," says Phil.

"I'm not taking to _ghosts_, Phil, I'm talking to myself. My brain won't shut off, it's so fucking loud right now."

Phil laughs, but he doesn't seem like he's making fun of Dan. He twirls his finger around one of Dan's curls and grins up at him. "I can help with that," he says. In case there were any doubt about what he means, Phil squeezes Dan's ass. "Bet I could make your brain be quiet."

"Yeah?" Dan grins and noses at Phil's jaw. "Yeah, alright, do your worst."

"What do you want?" Phil asks, using his light grip on Dan's hair to make Dan look at him. Dan personally thinks he could tug harder, but they can talk about that when Dan has to pull up a PowerPoint presentation on his kinks.

That's not an easy question. Dan wants everything, whatever Phil's got on offer. He shrugs.

"Honestly," says Dan, "I'm even easier about sex than I am about food."

"This has _not_ been easy," Phil grumbles, good-natured about it. Dan cackles in response. Not a very attractive sound, but Phil doesn't seem to mind. He just smiles.

"Okay, yeah, fair enough," says Dan. "You know what I mean. You can make that call, I believe in you. Although, for you to make an informed decision, you should know I haven't showered since..." He trails off, frowning. 

"Not a good sign that you can't remember," Phil laughs. He doesn't seem anxious the way he has when Dan pushes him in the past, but maybe he's just feeling the same loose vulnerability that's making Dan go mad with it. Phil hums and toys with Dan's hair. "Uh, alright, you wanna maybe fuck me?"

The suggestion being somehow both unsure and totally blunt makes Dan laugh, and then Phil is ducking giggles into Dan's collarbone, too. 

"How is that a question?" Dan grins. "Sure I do."

Phil is grinning back at him, bright and beautiful, and Dan has to lean in and connect their lips again for a long moment. "Mm, you wanna grab the stuff from the loo, then? And put Thor in there while you're at it."

"Why do I have to?"

"You're on top of me."

"I don't have to be. You go put the dog away."

"No, you should - okay," Phil cuts himself off with a laugh and takes his hand off Dan's ass to hold it up between them in a fist. "Rock, paper, scissors you for it?"

As Dan proceeds to lose two of three - and then three of five, and then five of seven when he keeps complaining about not being in the Zone - it occurs to him that this whole thing feels ridiculous.

It's not a bad thing. Dan hasn't had silly sex in a very, very long time. He's certainly never had sex with someone he trusts quite as much as he trusts Phil. He's trying not to think about that too hard when he lures Thor into the bathroom with treats and his favourite toy, because he doesn't want to accidentally activate his own fight or flight reflex.

Phil is propped up on his elbows in bed, watching Dan with an absent smile on his face, and Dan remembers seeing him like this when they were drunk together. He'd been sprawled out over Dan's sheets and smirking up at him and Dan hadn't done _anything_ about it. 

"God, I'm stupid," Dan breathes, and Phil laughs.

"Yeah," he agrees, even though he can't possibly know what Dan is thinking about. "You just gonna stand there?"

With a rude gesture, Dan tosses the bottle of lube at Phil, who yelps as it almost hits him in the face. Dan finds himself cackling again as he fights to get his ultra-skinny jeans off his legs while he's still standing. He'd put them on to go to the dog park - stayed in the Friends shirt, though, it's very comfortable - but he's regretting that now. Phil's cotton shorts would be way less awkward to shimmy out of.

"_Must_ you watch me do this?" Dan huffs, hopping on one foot as he tries to yank his jeans down over his other ankle. "It's not exactly sexy."

"It's very funny, though," says Phil.

Dan manages to get his jeans and socks off without injury, and then he flops back into bed to help Phil with his own tight jeans. 

"We need to rethink our fashion," Dan laughs. Phil is giggling, too, and lifting his hips for Dan, and this is all so _fun_. Dan had actually forgotten that sex could be fun. His jeans come off easier than Dan's, thank god, and Dan runs his hands over Phil's thighs with a little hum. "Damn, you're pale."

Phil makes an amused, choked-off noise and kicks out at Dan without actually trying to hit him. "Hey, fuck you, you're supposed to say nice stuff to me."

"I'm so sorry, Phil, the beauty of your alabaster legs just drive me crazy," Dan simpers, exaggeratedly batting his eyelashes. He's being a dick about it, but the sentiment behind the words are true enough. Phil's got nice legs, nice thighs, a nice semi in his nice boxers. Dan brushes his fingers in a way that's probably ticklish and laughs when Phil kicks his shin for real. "Fucking _ow_, do you want me to tell you how hot you are or not?"

"You're so annoying," Phil informs him, and then he's sitting up to take his shirt off and Dan's mouth goes dry for real.

"Oh," he says, shifting further up the bed so he can flick his thumb over the metal bar in Phil's left nipple. He hadn't really expected that from Phil. Dan blinks, trying to get his brain back online. "Why didn't you get both?'

Whatever Phil was expecting him to say, it wasn't that. He sits there for a moment, stumped, the pads of Dan's fingers curiously poking at his nipple. It doesn't seem like it's very sensitive. Dan wonders if that's from the piercing or if Phil just doesn't have sensitive nipples. He wonders how long this piercing has been here - it hadn't been, back when he was an avid AmazingPhil subscriber, and Phil hasn't taken his shirt off for YouTube in years.

Then, Phil shrugs. "You only get one pierced, don't you?"

"I think most people get both," Dan says, but he's talking on autopilot right now. He shakes his head, tries to clear it. "Fucking symmetry or whatever, yeah?"

"I guess," Phil says. He doesn't shrug again, but his broad, bare shoulders twitch like they want to. He's got freckles and beauty marks on his shoulders and arms and torso, and Dan wants to get his mouth on every single one.

"No offense," says Dan, "but I really didn't peg you as the piercing type."

Phil smirks a bit. "Wow, the MySpace boy I was trying so hard to be is crying right now. Yeah, I dunno, it was one of the really impulsive things I did a couple years ago. Getting Thor was one of those, I think I told you about that."

He had. Dan remembers it, vaguely, remembers wondering if Phil was hiding a tattoo under his clothes. 

"Did it hurt?"

"Not as much as I expected," says Phil. "And definitely not as much as my other ones did."

Dan narrows his eyes and looks Phil over, dubious. Phil isn't wearing anything but a pair of boxer briefs with sushi print on them, and Dan can't see any more metal or healing holes on him. Phil's little smirk only grows while Dan looks him over carefully. "Stop fucking with me, you don't have more piercings."

Phil raises an eyebrow and his hips in a synchronicity that Dan didn't know his body possessed. Dan swallows, hard, can hear his heart pounding as it rushes all the blood in his brain south and makes him a little dizzy.

The room is quiet and still and too hot for a long beat. Then, Dan pulls his borrowed shirt off and chucks it somewhere over his shoulder so that the cool air of the basement can stop him from overheating. He slides his fingers under the hem of Phil's boxers and pulls them down his long legs, unable to stop himself from dropping a kiss to one of Phil's very pale thighs as he does.

"Fuck," Dan breathes. He nips at Phil's thigh a bit, making the muscles there jerk. "Alright, so I can see how that would hurt more."

Phil's cock is pretty and thick, which Dan _suspected_ but had no way of _knowing_, and it's also got two piercings in it. Dan knows the name of the one, a Prince Albert ring right at the tip of Phil's dick, but he has no idea what the other is called.

He has to touch them, of course. He wraps his hand around Phil's cock and rubs his thumb back and forth over the ring, watching Phil's face carefully as he does.

"Dan," is all Phil says, but his voice has gone low and his eyes have gone dark, so Dan figures he's doing something right.

"What the hell is this?" Dan has to ask, trailing his fingers down Phil's cock to nudge at the bar through the bottom of it, right above his balls. "Like, what is it called? Also, why did you do this? Also, also, I want to suck your dick now."

Phil laughs, throaty and dark, and that doesn't help Dan's situation at all.

"You only grabbed one condom," he points out, waving the wrapper in Dan's face. "So you can either fuck me or suck me off, your call."

"I don't need a condom to suck your dick," says Dan.

Somehow, even with Dan's hand idly stroking him and playing with the piercings, Phil manages to roll his eyes. "You do. I'm not giving you a safe sex lecture, Dan, either make up your mind or go get another condom."

Dan sulks, but he doesn't bother arguing. He hasn't actually heard Phil be so strongly opinionated about something before. There's not a hint of hesitation or anxiety in telling Dan what he wants, and Dan likes that too much to bicker over something as miniscule as a condom. 

"Fine," he sighs, sitting up between Phil's legs and letting go of his dick.

"Aw, Dan," Phil lightly mocks. He reaches out and pets Dan's hair, which Dan is only a little embarrassed to lean into. "It's like you don't even know that getting tested together can be third base for gay people."

"Well, I _don't_ know," Dan huffs. He's a little prickly and defensive about the teasing, but Phil smiles at him so softly that he melts all over again. "It's been a while, okay? And it's not like any of us were the smartest bulbs about this shit in uni." 

With a sympathetic little hum of a noise, Phil pulls Dan up by the hair to kiss him. It's slow and lingering and Dan's body is pressed against Phil's with the angle, only his thin Calvins in the way of them sliding together. When Phil pulls back, Dan is the one who gets stopped from leaning in for more.

"Sorry," Phil says, quiet and sincere and still smiling. "I really will talk about why it's important to me later, but right now I just really need you to put your stupidly big hands to work."

Another request, no hesitation. Dan is only too happy to oblige.

Dan has never fingered another guy before. The rare times, back in the day, that he hadn't been craving something inside him to ease that constant tension he carried around with him, Dan's sexual partners had just done the task themselves.

Still, it's not rocket science. He's had his fingers in women and in himself before, how different could it be? 

Too much lube and a wrist cramp later, Dan is getting the hang of things. He's using his right hand on Phil so his left wrist can take a break, pushing and prodding deep with his longest fingers to coax drawn-out noises from Phil's pretty lips. Dan kisses him, rocks against his hip, murmurs absolute nonsense into his ear that he'll feel embarrassed about when he isn't so fucking turned on. He hasn't managed to consistently hit Phil's prostate or anything but Phil doesn't seem to mind. He's grinding into Dan's hand, biting his lip hard, murmuring, "That's it, you've got it, c'mon, give me another."

"Yeah, alright," Dan breathes, carefully pressing another finger into him and shuddering at the way Phil's back arches into it.

This is easily the hottest thing he's ever done, and that might be pathetic if it wasn't so obvious that nothing else could even come close to this. Phil doesn't bother telling Dan when he's ready, he just shoves the condom into Dan's free palm and wraps a hand around himself.

"Not getting any younger, here," Phil says on a little pant, and Dan realises that he's just been staring.

"Right, fuck, okay."

Dan's fingers shake a bit, but he manages to get his boxers off and his cock ready without any incidents - aside from another mean twinge in his left wrist. He waits and just looks at Phil again, spread legs and long neck and all gorgeous _man_, and Phil's eyelashes flutter as he tugs lightly on one of his piercings, fuck.

"C'mon," Phil urges again, hooking a lanky leg over Dan's hip to pull him closer.

"It's gonna be like that, is it?" Dan laughs breathlessly. He hoists Phils body up by his thighs for a better angle and keeps a hand on Phil's ass to hold him there. "Fucking pillow princess, I should have guessed."

"Whatever, Dan," says Phil. He seems very distracted by Dan lining his cock up and slowly, so slowly, pressing inside of him. Phil groans then, the loudest noise he's made yet, and rocks his hips to take more of Dan's cock than Dan is giving him. "Not gonna fucking break, c'mon."

"Jesus, Phil," Dan half-laughs, half-moans. "So demanding. Feel so good, though, shit, I can't stay in _Atlanta_, I can't not have this all the - fuck - all the time."

It just kind of slips out, the way everything Dan babbles during sex slips out, but Phil is nodding along anyway, wrapping his arms around Dan's shoulders to pull him down into a messy kiss.

The wet noises where they're joined should be comical, maybe, all squelching lube and skin slapping against skin as Dan starts to fuck into Phil properly, but Dan is too focused on the breathy noises escaping from their kiss to care. This is just what sex sounds like - this is what sex with Phil sounds like, and Dan could really get used to that.

Phil's heel digs into the small of Dan's back to urge him on until, presumably, his leg gets tired or cramped and he wraps them both around Dan's hips instead. They gasp into each other's mouths at the slight change in angle, and Dan's hips snap forward.

If Phil weren't sucking on his tongue right now, Dan would be prattling on and moaning loud and generally making an idiot of himself. He feels the telltale sensation of heat in his gut that means there's an orgasm at the finish line, he just needs to get there. 

Dan plants a hand on the bed and lifts Phil's lower body a bit more with the other, moaning absolute nonsense into Phil's mouth as he thrusts a little harder and faster to try and get Phil where he is.

A whine reverberates through Dan's body as Phil makes the noise with his teeth on Dan's lower lip, and then Dan can feel the rhythmic nudges of Phil's knuckles against his stomach as he jacks himself off, fast, because he's close too and Dan can _tell_. Dan wants to wait it out, he does, but Phil feels too good around his cock for him to hold out any longer. His orgasm hits and he groans like he’s been punched in the stomach, burying his face into Phil’s neck as he does.

He hears Phil say, "Fuck, okay, just _stay there_," and stays deep inside of him, pressing wet kisses to his neck and grinding his hips in little circles until Phil gets his, too, toes curling against the backs of Dan's thighs with a quiet groan and one hand gripping his hair so tight that Dan sees stars.

Dan presses a soft kiss to Phil's jaw and carefully pulls out of him to flop onto his back, trying to get his breathing back to a regular rate. He's seriously unfit when he isn't filming, his personal trainer would be so furious about all the Domino's he's been eating. He laughs at the thought of his trainer's angry face and then he's just giggling, throwing an arm over his face to hide from Phil's curious eyes.

"I think you fucked me stupid," Dan tells him through the giggles, and Phil responds with a low chuckle.

Arms are wrapped around Dan's waist and a line of kisses are dropped along his collarbone. "Hey, now," says Phil, his voice low and fucked out, "I can't take credit for that. You were stupid when you got here."

"Oi," Dan laughs, shoving at him. If they had more energy, they'd probably roll around until all the mocking words are just breathless laughter, but as it is they just manage to elbow each other a few times and then curl closer. It's quiet for a few minutes, just holding each other close and letting their hands brush softly over each other's skin.

Then, Phil yawns.

"Okay," he says, like he's psyching himself up. "Contacts out. Dog out. Pants on."

"That last one seems optional," Dan says, waggling his eyebrows. Phil laughs and swats at his chest. 

"You," says Phil, swatting the same spot again for good measure, "condom off, pants on."

"What is this pants agenda you're pushing on me?" Dan hums into Phil's hair. It smells sweet, like some kind of berry. "I'm not sure I'm interested in these pants you speak of." 

Phil laughs and pulls away to stretch all his long limbs out. Dan takes the opportunity to shamelessly check him out again, admiring the glints of metal that the majority of the world doesn't get to see. "You will be. Thor's going to want to cuddle after we locked him up."

He watches Phil as he searches his room for clean boxers, wolf-whistling when he bends down and laughing at the finger he gets in return.

"Yeah, okay," says Dan. He feels a smile spread across his face before he even thinks about it. Yeah. This is what he wants. This is what, for some godforsaken reason, he's been allowed to have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to eve as always for cheerleading me through this and reminding me of new ways that dan can be stupid. it's the dan-kin in her. and a special thank you to neda, whom i trusted to make my smut scene into something readable and they did an INCREDIBLE job!! 
> 
> shoutout to danae for saying an offhand "hey, you should write phil with these dick piercings" and forcing me, not interested in dicks, to research like crazy. love you.
> 
> thanks for reading! no, we aren't wrapping up yet. i'll tell y'all when i know how many chapters this is gonna be lmao


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! this is a tiny bit less polished than usual, since my darling beta wasn't available to look it over for me and point out any obvious mistakes. hope you like it anyway!
> 
> new chapter up on monday!
> 
> read and reblog on tumblr [here!](https://dayevsphil.tumblr.com/post/187989928713/cant-breathe-when-you-touch-my-sleeve-chapter)

"Daniel?"

Dan blinks. He blinks again, zoning back into the conversation he's supposed to be a part of.

"Er," he says, sheepish. "What was the question?"

"Are you sure you're feeling okay, Daniel?" the woman asks - the _interviewer_ asks, fuck, this is like the sixth time he's asked her to repeat herself. "I heard you were ill yesterday, weren't you?"

He wasn't. But that is what Jaime and Patrick had sworn up and down to anyone who asked, because they're good partners in crime like that. They look like they regret it now.

"Yeah, Daniel," Jaime says, stressing his name in a way that makes Dan think she's one more fuckup from smacking him in the back of the head. He'd probably deserve it, at this point. He can't remember being this scatterbrained in his whole life, and that's saying something. "You sure you're okay being out of bed?"

The word 'bed' gets stressed too, just a bit, and Dan feels a flush creeping up his neck.

It's honestly unreasonable how he can't seem to focus on the task at hand, which is answering softball questions about the show he's worked on for three years, because his mind keeps drifting back to Phil.

Phil, who he'd left in bed with Thor, all sleepy noises and grumpiness at Dan needing to leave. Phil, who has the day off and might still be mostly naked and lazy while he waits for Dan to come back. Phil, who he only has three days left with.

Three more days in London. Two sleeps. And Dan has shit to do every single goddamn day of it.

This is a work trip, technically. They've got a handful of interviews the next two days that couldn't be scheduled for their first London stretch, and then they're going to France. That's exciting, it is, a mark of success that Dan never expected for himself, but right now he's frustrated by anything that cuts into the time he could be using to kiss Phil.

Dan is so busy remembering how Phil's mouth had felt against his that he forgets to answer the question. He can practically feel his eyes glaze over.

"Daniel," Patrick says, audibly exasperated.

It takes a lot to get Patrick to that point, so Dan ducks his head and mumbles another apology.

"He's fine," Jaime tells the very nice and concerned interviewer whose name Dan has long forgotten. "He's just got a lot on his mind right now and he's really shit at multitasking."

"Hey," says Dan. It's a weak protest. 

The interviewer is a tall woman with kind eyes that crinkle into laughter lines when she smiles at him. She's dressed casually, has a denim jacket with patches and pins all over it, and Dan feels his eyes linger at the rainbow on her pocket.

What is that like? To be so certain and so confident that you can wear it on your sleeve even in a professional environment? Dan doesn't know that he'll be able to get there.

He wants to compliment her on it. It's the same urge he had in the restaurant with Phil's family, vocalizing that he wishes he could wear more nail polish. The same swirling anxiety of being judged for it follows quickly, but this time it's amplified by the recording device in the interviewer's hand, the knowledge that anything he says right now will be analyzed to death later.

Dan wants to live authentically, and he wants to get to a place where he doesn't need to hide, but he's frustrated by the reality of how much progress that's going to take. It's not going to be easy, it already hasn't been, and it's never going to stop.

Even with making a name for himself and having an audience, Dan knows that coming out publicly still won't stop strangers from making assumptions about him or demanding an explanation for the women he's been seen with. He'll have to come out over and over and - it's scary. It's really scary.

The compliment catches in his throat. He can't say it to someone recording him, no matter how kind her eyes are. He hasn't even told his grandma yet.

"I like your jacket," he says instead. He feels like a coward for it.

"Thanks," the woman says brightly, looking down at herself and tapping one of her bigger patches. "Customized it myself, obviously. It's a wee bit more colourful than you like to be seen in, right?"

The casual chirping helps Dan relax, reminds him that this is a laid-back interview with easy questions. Nobody is shining a heat lamp on him and asking for an expose on how he spent part of last night inside of another man. 

He grins and shrugs. "Yeah, alright, I wear a lot of black. Sue me. I can still think colours look nice on some people."

Great. Now he's thinking about Phil again.

"Like Jaime," Patrick offers, tugging at one of Jaime's bubblegum braids. Dan still can't tell if it's a wig or not, but she smacks Patrick's hand away like it's her own hair.

"That's true," says Dan. "Jaime wears as much black as I do, though, I dunno that she's the best example."

Patrick nods, solemn. "At least _her_ hair is interesting."

"Oi, fuck you. Sorry," Dan adds sheepishly. Even though this is an online print interview, he still feels a little bit of shame whenever he slips up and curses during an interview.

The woman - Cara? Catherine? Camilla? Ca-something? - just laughs and waves his apology off.

With an ease that Dan can't help but notice isn't quite as practised as Phil's, the interviewer moves on to questions about their other cast members. While they don't have any trouble making fun of each other, it's even more fun to exaggerate stories of people who aren't here to defend themselves.

Dan tries so hard to participate. He does. He laughs in all the right places and gives Jaime grief for not remembering something right, because he's given this poor interviewer nothing of substance. The thing is that Jaime is better at telling stories and Patrick is so dry and stoic with interrupting jokes that Dan knows he isn't needed for this. He lets them bicker over a story detail that he's long forgotten and feels himself start to zone back out.

He listens to Patrick's slow timbre, Jaime's trill of a laugh, and lets his mind drift back to where it wants to be. 

\--

Even though it's tempting, Dan isn't stupid enough to text Phil in the middle of doing his fucking job. He has to resort to checking his phone between interviews and pictures, getting more and more pouty about the lack of response to the things he's sending throughout the morning. Phil must be having a lie-in, because it takes him a couple of hours to even see Dan's texts.

**ugh i should have just stayed in bed**

**pls send thor pics**

**and you pics but like give me a heads up if your dick is out im at work**

**i dropped my coffee on jaimes lap fml shes gonna kill me**

**im just so distracted lmaooo**

**canft believe youre just asleep thats so rude**

**Oh nooooooo. I always cry over spilt coffee :( you want me to bring you one? I can come hang out for lunch!**

The sweet text is accompanied by a photo of Thor asleep on the sofa, his little head pillowed on Phil's knee. Phil is wearing Dan's pyjama pants and - it's hard to tell for sure, with the way the photo is angled, but Dan thinks he's got the Friends shirt on. Frankly, that should be gross. Dan wore that shirt for way too long for it not to smell like, well, his sweat, and that is objectively not sexy. 

Dan feels gooey warmth spread from his stomach outwards, anyway. Maybe it is gross, but it makes him happy to think about Phil's shirt smelling like him the way that his own Yeezy shirt still faintly smells like Phil. He covers his mouth with a hand so nobody milling around will see him grinning like an idiot. 

**thats ok**, Dan texts back one-handed. **yall look comfy you should stay. i'll b back for dinner and snuggles ok?**

**Ok! ^_^**

God, but Dan wants to be there now. He wants to be the one cuddled up with his head in Phil's lap. He recognises that it's very stupid to be jealous of a dog, but he isn't going to let that stop him.

"Hey, Howell." Patrick's voice interrupts the daydream of slender fingers carding through Dan's hair. 

Dan blinks. He blinks again, looks up.

"I didn't even see you sit down," Dan tells him, bemused. They're sharing a bench in the building's lobby, not wanting to go too far in case they need to go back upstairs for more photos during the short break in their day.

"Yeah, you're on another planet," says Patrick. Dan wishes he could argue that fact. "Things went well with your whole Love Actually emergency, then?"

The reference pulls Dan up short. He feels his brow furrow as he walks through the entire film in his head. "What are you talking about? None of this happened in Love Actually."

"It's British, isn't it," Patrick says nonsensically. 

"I don't," Dan starts, but then he gives up. He and Patrick are close as coworkers - friends, even - but Dan never quite understands the links that Patrick's brain makes. "It went well. It went really well. I don't know if Jaime told you everything I texted her, but I like... fully ended up meeting the family."

Patrick's eyebrows raise slightly. That's quite a reaction, from him. "You met the parents? Bro. You just started dating."

They're not in an overly crowded area, but people keep walking by them on their way in or out of the building, so Dan is pleasantly surprised to discover that Patrick can play the pronoun game, too.

"Yeah," says Dan. He doesn't want to get into the mix-up right now. He's sure that Patrick will have another incomprehensible reference when he hears about it. "But it just feels... I dunno. Right? In a way other people haven't? Maybe that's obvious."

"It's not obvious," says Patrick. He's snapping a hair elastic around his wrist idly, the gesture something Dan had thought was an expression of annoyance or frustration when they first met. Dan knows now that it means Patrick is tired, that he wants to shove his hair off his shoulders and stop it from tickling his neck. They're only halfway through their day, though, still a couple of photoshoots to get through, so he can't put his hair up just yet.

Dan knows so much about these people. He's learned it all from such close proximity for the past three years, but he also genuinely likes spending time with them. He feels, suddenly, very guilty for wishing cancellation on this thing they've all worked so hard for.

"Sorry," Dan says.

"For what?"

He doesn't really know how to voice it. He shrugs. "For being a shit coworker right now."

Patrick gives him an indecipherable look and shakes his head. "Daniel," he says, "you're not being a shit coworker."

"I kind of am, though," says Dan. "Like I can't focus at all, I'm missing interviews, and I... I don't know how much I want to go back to Atlanta. Is that bad?"

"Why would that be bad?" Patrick hums. "This is your home."

Home isn't an easy concept for Dan to wrap his head around. He hadn't had a happy one for most of his life, hadn't been able to find somewhere that felt quite right ever since he escaped that. So it's a little disconcerting when Patrick's words settle into his chest and feel like indisputable truth.

"London is home," Dan echoes, wondering it it feels just as right coming out of his own mouth. It does. His head is spinning, a bit.

"Yeah," Patrick says, like it's that easy. 

Dan gives himself a little shake back into the present. He smiles, wry. "Still, I probably shouldn't be crossing my fingers under tables for the producers to shut us down."

For a moment, Patrick looks confused. Dan is all ready to apologise again, shove those feelings down, but Patrick just says, "So negotiate your contract. You know that you aren't required by law to see the show through to the end, right? You can just not come back for season four, or only come back for a couple episodes instead of a full season."

They're sat in a fairly public area, with other people walking about, but Dan could hear a pin drop in the shattering silence that rings in his ears at Patrick's use of logic.

"I," says Dan, "did not think of that."

Patrick nods. "You kind of tunnel-vision sometimes, has anyone ever told you that?"

\--

By the time Dan returns to Phil's building, he's talked himself into and back out of quitting his job a dozen times. It's a dumb decision, but not much dumber than simply waiting for someone else to make the decision for him.

He decides to call Amy when he's in France and talk the options through with her. She's already looking for potential gigs in the UK for him, so hopefully the conversation isn't going to come as much of a surprise to her. The last thing he needs is for his agent to get upset with him over making changes in his life.

Dan's head is buzzing with it, loud enough to give him a headache. He texts Phil that he's outside and waits to be let in. He gets an intrusive domestic fantasy of letting himself in with his own key, and reminds himself to rein in this U-Haul bullshit.

"Hey!" Phil beams as he opens the door and steps back for Dan to come in. Other people live on the other floors, but Phil still leans in for a long kiss the moment the door closes behind Dan. 

It sends sparks up Dan's spine and quiets some of the unending noise in his head. He sighs, leans into the kiss, wraps his arms around Phil's waist to pull him even closer. 

He's cognizant of where they are, though, so he pulls back to rest their foreheads together after a moment. "Hey yourself."

"Did you have a good day?" Phil asks, his tri-coloured eyes bright and unguarded. 

"Yeah, but it's better now," says Dan. He's parroting what Phil said to him yesterday, and he can tell that Phil recognises it from the little smile on his face. "You look nice. You showered just for me?"

Phil laughs and tugs at Dan's wrist, pulling him down the stairs. They've got four left feet between them, honestly, so it's a miracle nobody takes a nosedive. 

"Yeah," he says as they narrowly avoid any number of broken bones. He presses Dan against the wall next to his front door and grins at him. "But it was also for the judgey moms at the dog park. You look nicer, you didn't take the makeup off?"

To be honest, Dan had forgotten it was even on his face. He settles his hands on Phil's hips and smiles. "They made me look like the best version of me, why would I erase all their hard work?"

"Mm, you do look pretty," Phil says, and Dan is lucky to have his back against a wall. His knees might have actually buckled at the praise if he was unsupported.

"Pretty, huh?" Dan asks. He tries to keep his tone dry, like it's a big joke, but Phil's big eyes just see too much. 

"Very pretty," says Phil. Dan doesn't know how to handle being complimented by Phil's deep, sincere voice, but he isn't given much of a chance to react before Phil is speaking again. "But I don't know that I'd call this the best version of you. You looked really nice when you came, y'know."

"Fuck, Phil," Dan laughs, a little breathless. "I was literally gone for ten hours."

"Ten hours too many," Phil grumbles. 

Dan laughs again, but he has to admit that Phil has a point. The day had absolutely dragged on with the knowledge that his probably-boyfriend was waiting for him.

"You wanna go inside, then?" Dan suggests, running his thumbs just under the hem of Phil's clean shirt. "I'll do a lot of things, but this floor is cement, mate. I'm not blowing you out here."

The giggle that's surprised out of Phil makes Dan smile so wide it hurts his cheeks. He smacks the center of Dan's chest lightly and steps back to let them both into his flat. "I was thinking we could, like, order dinner first or whatever, but I'm not going to complain if you want to switch up the itinerary."

"The itinerary," Dan mocks, looking around for a ball of fluff running directly at them as he struggles with his shoes. "Uh, where's Thor?"

"Uh," says Phil. There's colour high in his cheeks that he tries to hide by flopping onto the sofa. The sweats he stole off of Dan don't really leave much to the imagination at all, not when he's sitting like _that_, and Dan almost loses his balance when he stands up straight. The pink doesn't leave Phil's face, but a knowing smirk joins it. "He's in the bathroom."

Dan's heart skips like an old CD player and he laughs to mask just how fond he is. "Uh huh, and here you are acting like you were really ordering food first."

"Well," Phil says, his smirk growing, "we could still order first, it'd be at least twenty."

"Sounds like a challenge," Dan hums, coming around the sofa to sit on the other end and lean forward, kissing the sliver of skin where Phil's shirt is riding up. "Why don't you do that, and I'll go get a bloody condom."

Phil blushes, proper blushes, and pulls a packet out of his pocket. "Ta-da," he jokes, weakly. "For my next trick -"

"If you say you're going to make your penis disappear," Dan says, flat, "then I'm walking out."

They just look at each other for a long moment, like a staring contest neither of them initiated, and then Phil snorts. That sets them both off and soon enough they're laughing, Dan's nose tucked against Phil's hipbone and Phil's hand over his mouth.

"I wasn't going to say that," Phil insists, still giggling. "I _wasn't_."

"Sure you weren't." Dan grins up at him and slides up his body, a little less graceful than he'd imagined it in his head. He presses their smiles together and licks into Phil's mouth. A little noise passes between them when Phil's hands find their way into Dan's hair, but Dan isn't sure which of them it comes from.

The giddy feeling of laughter doesn't leave Dan's chest. He lets it make a home there as he trails kisses all over Phil's long, pale neck. He doesn't need to guess when Phil likes something - he squirms and makes these little huffs of noises, grip on Dan's curls tightening just a bit before it loosens again. It feels impossibly powerful to learn how to take Phil apart like this, like they're teenagers snogging on the sofa in their first relationship.

It's strange that this _does_ feel like a first relationship for Dan, in a lot of ways. He loved his first girlfriend and cared about other women he's dated, but it's not the same at all.

Finally, Dan is allowed to feel all the things he's supposed to have felt when he was younger. He's allowed to let budding affection and lust and friendship all wrap up in one person. 

"So, the piercings," Dan murmurs, letting his hand slide up Phil's shirt to toy with one of them.

"What about them?" Phil asks. He already sounds impatient and needy, like he had last night, and the sound of it goes straight to Dan's dick. 

Dan laughs and sits up, helping Phil get his shirt off over his head. "I mean, do they do things for you? Do they feel good when I touch them? _How_ do you want me to touch them to make them feel good?"

"Do you always ask this many questions during sex?" Phil asks, dry.

There's no point in lying. "Yeah, I tend to babble." Dan gives him a winning smile and taps at Phil's hips, a silent request for him to lift up. Phil does happily, arching up for Dan and letting his stolen sweats get tugged off. "Guess you'll have to shut me up somehow."

Phil laughs, muffling the sound of it with his palm, and shakes his head. He looks so fucking gorgeous like this, giggly and naked and starting to get hard against his thigh. Dan has no idea how he got this lucky.

"That's such a terrible line," Phil informs him, grinning wide. He doesn't seem bothered by Dan being dressed when he isn't. He just settles back against the cushions and wiggles a bit, either trying to get comfortable or just teasing Dan. Either is possible at this point.

"It's not a line," Dan protests, shrugging his jacket off and settling back between Phil's legs. He presses his mouth to Phil's soft tummy and, unable to help himself, blows a raspberry.

Phil kicks out at him, instinctive, and his tongue is trapped between his teeth as he tries to hold back giggles.

"My nipples aren't sensitive," Phil tells him, voice wavering with some combination of amusement and arousal. He drops a hand to wrap around his own cock, thumbing at the metal on the tip of it. "This is. It, like, tugs. It's nice."

Biting back a groan at the sight, Dan digs around for the condom. He impatiently knocks Phil's hand out of the way to get him hard enough that he can roll it on. The piercing just above his balls settles nicely at the bottom of the latex, almost like it's holding it in place. Dan rolls it between his fingers, watches Phil's eyes flutter closed. "And this one?" 

"Not as much. Still good, though." Phil's tongue darts out to lick his lips, and Dan grins at the unconscious reminder of what he's meant to be doing.

It's not the most comfortable for them to be laid out on the sofa like this, lanky as they are, but Dan isn't nineteen anymore. His knees do not hold up the way they used to. He wraps his hand around the base of Phil's cock and lets the tips of his fingers idly play with the metal bar as he finally gets his mouth on Phil.

Dan isn't used to the taste of latex accompanying a blowjob, but it isn't unpleasant. He gives Phil a couple of long licks and then sucks lightly at the head, not sure how much pressure Phil likes yet. 

That's something he thinks he'd love to learn. He wants to know everything about Phil's body, wants to make him tremble with it.

Dan is extremely offended when he glances up and sees that Phil is tapping something on his phone, but the offense settles when Phil huffs a laugh and says, "Put in for takeaway. All yours, now." 

The phone gets put down and Dan tongues at the bump of Phil's Prince Albert ring through the condom. That makes Phil's breath hitch, his hips jerk just a bit.

It's been years since Dan has had a cock in his mouth, but he likes to think it's like riding a bike. He takes Phil deep, hollows out his cheeks, repeats any motion that makes Phil let out soft groans. He forgot how much he likes this, fuck.

Much like everything else, it's somehow impossibly better with Phil.

Phil keeps a hand in Dan's hair and braces the other on the back of the sofa, breathing hard, and Dan doesn't want to close his eyes and miss a fucking moment of this.

"Fuck," Phil breathes, and Dan responds with an answering moan around his dick. "Yeah, alright, that's - fuck, Dan, you feel so good, look so pretty like that."

The praise still makes Dan shudder. He sucks Phil harder, feeling the weight of Phil's cock on his tongue as he speeds up his movements.

Dan remembers blowjobs to be pretty fast. He also never gave one to a man older than twenty, though, and his jaw starts to ache once he realises that Phil isn't going to be pushed over the edge as quickly as he's used to.

He pulls off to give his jaw a break, stroking Phil and pressing his open mouth along the side of him. 

"You think I feel nice?" Dan laughs, pleased by the way the gust of air makes Phil's cock twitch. "Fucking, forgot how good _this_ feels."

"Yeah?" Phil prompts, his voice deep and breathy and so, so nice to listen to. No wonder he's so successful on the radio. "You like sucking cock?"

Dan shivers. "Yeah," he says. He's unashamed, because he feels safe here with Phil. He can admit to liking a cock in his mouth, a hand in his hair, being called pretty. "Yours specifically, though."

Phil laughs. "That's good. I like specifically your cock, too." He looks over at his kitchen for a moment and raises his eyebrows. "I'll get dressed and answer the door when the pizza gets here _if_ you can make me come in the next five minutes."

Well. Never let it be said that Dan Howell backs down from a challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to eve for being such a consistently good person to chat to about this, to neda for demanding more detail about phil's dick, and to all of you for reading! thank you so much!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more introspection? in MY tropes? it's more likely than you think
> 
> thank you so much to everyone who's coming along on this journey with me. i don't have them written yet so i won't change the ? just yet in case something grabs hold of me, but my beta and i have been talking and we're guesstimating this thing is gonna wrap up in chapter 13.
> 
> next chapter up on friday!
> 
> read and reblog this chapter on tumblr [here!](https://dayevsphil.tumblr.com/post/188050836413/cant-breathe-when-you-touch-my-sleeve-chapter)

The flat is dark but for the string lights over Phil's headboard and the candles on his nightstand. Phil's fingers are tracing patterns on Dan's chest, loopy circles and spirals that leave goosebumps in their wake. He's humming something familiar under his breath that Dan can't place and his eyes are half-lidded behind his glasses.

They're tangled up on Phil's bed, ostensibly getting ready to sleep, but Dan is struggling. He doesn't want to miss a single moment he's got left with Phil. He'd thrown on some boxers in concession of sharing space with a dog, and Phil has gotten completely dressed in Dan's pyjamas with muttered complaints about the cold. Dan already misses looking at his body, but he has to admit that he likes looking at this, too.

"Remind me again when you're leaving?" 

Dan sighs, lightly tapping a line of freckles down Phil's arm and tangling their fingers together when he reaches them. "Sunday afternoon."

"Too soon," Phil says, quiet and light like he's trying to play off how much it sucks.

"Too soon," Dan agrees. "But I'll be back as soon as I can. And we can - I mean, I want to still, like. Date you. Even when I'm not here."

With a little hum of a noise, Phil blinks up at Dan. He looks a little perplexed. "Well, yeah," he says. "I'm just gonna remind you again that I introduced you to my parents. I wasn't planning on running off with the next local idiot who fawns all over me."

"I did not fawn," Dan protests, but his lips are twitching. He presses them to Phil's forehead to hide the movement. He didn't actually believe that Phil was thinking of this as something with a time limit, but it's nice to be reassured. They're quiet for a long moment, and then Dan has to ask the embarrassing question that's been plaguing him. "Are you, like. Are you my boyfriend?"

Phil laughs, not unkindly, and nuzzles into Dan's neck to press a kiss there. Dan can feel the curve of his smirk when the sensation makes Dan shiver.

"Yeah, Dan," says Phil, low and fond. "I'm your boyfriend."

"I'm just making sure," says Dan.

"You're so stupid," Phil says, pulling back from Dan's neck to grin up at him. His eyes are so bright that it almost aches to look at.

There really isn't a good argument for that. Dan shrugs, pulls Phil close enough that he can feel Phil's heartbeat. He buries his face in Phil's hair so that he doesn't have to watch Phil's expression change when he says, "Yeah. I told my brother about you, actually. Told him you were my boyfriend."

Phil chuckles. "I told my brother about you, too. Dunno why you're embarrassed about it."

"Yeah, but that's different," Dan mutters. "You talk to Martyn."

"I get that your family is," Phil says, pauses for a brief moment, "complicated, but I'm not bothered by them knowing about me."

"That's good," says Dan. "Because, er, I'm having lunch with my mum after the morning interviews tomorrow, and I thought - well, y'know."

A gentle hand in Dan's hair pulls him back from the cuddle so that Phil can look at him. His eyes flicker over Dan's face like they're looking for something. Whatever it is, he doesn't seem to find it.

Phil smiles indulgently, shaking his head a bit. "I actually don't know, Dan. I'm gonna need you to use your words. Because right now it sounds like you're inviting me to lunch with your mum. Which, to be clear, wouldn't be weird for me, since you've met mine, but I get the feeling it might be weird for you."

That hadn't been at all what Dan was asking. He thinks about it, though, wonders if if would be better or worse to have backup for this lunch.

Dan loves his mum. Their relationship is strained, distant, has got a heavy buildup of guilt and mistrust on both sides, but he loves her. He isn't sure he can bring Phil into that and explain it, not when he's met the wonderfully warm people who raised Phil.

"I was actually just asking if you'd be okay with me mentioning you, but how about," Dan says slowly, turning the idea over in his head. "We meet you at the park after lunch? I wanted to whine until she brought Colin, anyway, this gives me a good excuse."

"Colin?"

"My family dog," says Dan. "Don't make fun of his name, your dog's name is nerdy _and_ a pun."

Phil laughs and kisses the tip of Dan's nose. "I wouldn't dream of it. I like animals with hilariously normal names."

"So, you'll come? You really don't have to."

"Sure, I just," Phil says and pulls a little face, like he doesn't want to voice whatever he's thinking. "Is she... one of the people reacting badly? Wanna know what I'm getting into, here."

"No, she's been great," Dan says quietly. "She might be weird, but she won't be... y'know."

"I do know."

The smile playing around Phil's lips makes Dan want to kiss him, so he does. He can't believe that he's just allowed to do that, can't believe he somehow stumbled into being the luckiest person alive.

Dan's done a lot of things over the past decade that he thinks would shock and awe his teenage self. He's met and worked with some pretty big names, gotten drunk with his costars at some pretty big events, and publicly made a fool of himself in some pretty big ways.

He thinks this would take the cake, though. Just the simple act of kissing his boyfriend in bed would have been more than teen Dan could have dreamed of. He'd wanted that, of course, in a pipe dream sort of way, like how he'd wanted to stop hurting his girlfriend, wanted to feel some kind of acceptance for who he was so terrified to be. But the world had been way too fucking scary for him to consider it outside of daydreams.

Not to mention the fact that the man he's kissing is _AmazingPhil_. Dan laughs, pulls back from Phil to grin at him.

"You know," he says, "I used to have the biggest fucking crush on you."

"Used to?" Phil teases, brushing his fingers over Dan's ribs to make him squirm and laugh harder.

"Shut the fuck up," Dan says fondly. "I mean, like, in 2007."

Phil blinks. He's a lot sleepier than Dan is, which Dan very generously attributes to how long it takes Phil to do simple math in his head. "Wait, you seriously had a crush on me when you were sixteen?"

"Maybe," says Dan. 

"Oh, that's so cute," Phil coos. He gives Dan a smug little grin and rolls on top of him. Their limbs are so long and they're both so clumsy that Dan isn't surprised by Phil almost kneeing him in the balls in the process, but he's also so far gone that he barely cares. "And what would sixteen-year-old Dan think of all this?"

"He wouldn't believe it," Dan laughs, settling his hands on Phil's hips. "Like, literally, this would have never occurred to him as a possibility."

"Why not?" Phil teases, knocking their noses together gently. Dan gets the impression that he's more charmed than he's letting on with his dry voice. "You didn't wanna come to Summer in the City? Make an impression?"

That makes Dan honk a laugh right in Phil's face. Objectively, that's mortifying. Phil just snorts, though, so Dan decides not to worry about it on top of everything else he's constantly anxious about in Phil's presence. "The impression I would have made on you in 2007 or even, like, ten years ago, wouldn't have been anything good. You think I'm awkward now? You can only imagine what I was like before I had any kind of confidence."

"I'm sure it was very cute," says Phil. "I'd have added you on MySpace."

"I hate you," says Dan, not least because he'd _sent_ Phil a friend request on MySpace. He is absolutely not going to bring that up, though.

"Yeah, sure seems like you do," says Phil, grinning.

Dan doesn't like the smug look on his face, so he takes Phil's glasses off and sets them aside, chuckling when he immediately starts to squint. "It's bedtime," he reminds Phil.

"Bedtime," Phil agrees, and he blinks a bunch before he laughs. "I can't see you. You gotta kiss me goodnight."

Definitely a request Dan can handle.

\--

Once again, Dan finds himself staring at the ceiling of Phil's flat. He's got a snoring dog at his feet and a snoring man draped over him, and he should really be relaxed enough to drift off by now. He's comforted by the smell of Phil's sheets and the soft pattering of rain against the small windows, but it doesn't help get him any sleepier. It's frustrating. He's got interviews all morning - the last of the Isles leg before they get shipped off to the continent for another two weeks of the same circus - and he doesn't want to be cranky for them or have to apologise to another makeup artist for the dark circles under his eyes. He tries for a really long time to fall asleep before he gives up on it for the moment and reaches for his phone.

The familiar cycle of applications helps settle some of the restless energy that's thrumming under Dan's skin. The fingers of his right hand run over Phil's shoulders and through his hair, gentle and idle enough to avoid waking him, as he scrolls through different social media sites with his left thumb. 

His feeds are busy enough, since it's not quite late enough to be considered unreasonable in Atlanta or Chicago and Los Angeles is fully awake, but none of it is really catching his attention. He likes a bunch of dog photos and gets lost in a Twitter moment on a topic he's never heard about before. Three different times, he almost buys something that's being advertised to him before he remembers that he already owns something similar to it.

Normally he'd put on some AmazingPhil videos to help him fall asleep, but that feels pretty weird to do when the man himself is literally drooling on his chest right now. Not to mention, he'd have to get up to find some headphones, and that would just defeat the purpose of staying in bed.

Dan spends twenty minutes drafting an email to his grandma, hindered by only using one thumb and his brain not being at full firing power as it is. It ends up saying more or less what he'd texted to his mum, only with an apology at the end. He doesn't know why he does that. He isn't sorry for who he is, or for not telling her, or for not believing in the god that might inform her reaction. He almost deletes the apology, actually, but the fact is that he is. He is sorry for all of those things.

He doesn't want to be. He wants to be unapologetic. But this is a woman who he's always respected and who is so vocal about supporting his career that he sometimes gets embarrassed by the statuses she posts about him on Facebook. This is also a woman who brought him to church for a good chunk of his life.

It's so vivid, even now. Getting his collar smoothed down by her dainty hands, his cheeks pinched by all her friends. The stifling, muggy air and hard pew under him in the summer. 

Discomfort. Physical discomfort, as a child, and a deeper sort once he realised he didn't belong there. If he has to narrow it down, he's sorry that he might be giving her a different sort of discomfort in return.

He emails so that he can check for her response on his own time instead of panicking and shutting his phone off like he did with his mum, and then he goes into the app store to download some new, mindless games. Those entertain him for a while, the easy taps of his thumb giving him something to focus on that is not all the ways he's failed his family or the terrifying reality of what he might see in his mother's eyes tomorrow.

Today, he supposes. He'll be lucky to get a couple of hours at all.

In the end, he doesn't get any sleep. He wants to, because he knows he's going to be a zombie at work and at lunch, but maybe that's a good thing. He doesn't know what his mum is going to say, after all, doesn't know if she's going to try and defend his dad or talk about his reaction at all, so perhaps it's for the best that Dan feels everything a little more numbly than usual.

Dan turns off his alarm a split second after it rings, which is never a great feeling after a hard hit of insomnia. It's the final acknowledgement that sleep is not coming, no matter how much he tries to will it. He sighs and gently rolls Phil off of him. The way Phil grumbles and curls into his pillow, cuddling it to his chest, manages to get a weak smile out of Dan. He's just... cute. That's all there really is to it. Thor perks up when Dan gets out of bed, his ears all the way up, and Dan figures that it isn't the worst idea in the world to get some fresh air.

"You wanna go for a walk?" Dan whispers. He has to bite back a laugh at the way Thor reacts - spinning excitedly in a circle on the bed before hopping down and running to the door. 

The sun is just starting to rise, giving Dan enough light to avoid injuring himself as he finds something to throw on for the walk. He ends up with his own pyjama pants and some graphic tee or other of Phil's because he can't be bothered to look for something else. He figures that anyone else awake right now won't judge him for it.

He remembers to grab keys and doggy bags before he tries to get Thor out of the door without his excitement turning into barking. He hasn't really barked much in Dan's presence, but he doesn't want to take any chances. It would be just his luck to wake everyone in the building up because he has no idea what he's doing when it comes to training a dog. The dog his family had when he was growing up was cute, but he was real bad at being a dog. Dan's got absolutely no practice with making dogs listen to him, and he's not exactly assertive. He's been chased by chickens more than once.

The chill of the dawn air makes Dan glad he grabbed one of Phil's countless denim jackets, and he pauses on the pavement outside for only a brief moment before Thor starts tugging him down the road. Thor knows the area, even if Dan doesn't, so he's happy to let the dog guide them with his nose and stubby little legs.

It's too early to talk to anyone, for sure, but Dan wants to rip the band-aid off before he has to shift into his public persona. He texts his mum with one hand, **can u bring colin please i miss him so much and ive got a friend for him**, attaches a cute photo of Thor sniffing at a neighbour's flower box. After a moment's thought, he sends the photo to Phil as well. He'd watched Phil put his phone on silent before they got into bed, so he isn't worried about waking him up. Dan has to slip his phone back into his pocket to quietly scold Thor for eating someone else's petunias and scurry away from the scene of the crime.

Everything feels just a little hazy with the rising sun, the mist of barely-there rain, and Dan's own lack of sleep. He lets Thor guide him into a lazy walk around the block and breathes in the polluted air like it's going to make everything better.

Maybe it should be scary how right this feels. In fact, it is scary, and Dan would like to blame it entirely on his insomnia and idiocy, but he knows it's more than that. He wants this to be his routine, as stupid as that is. He doesn't want that right away, doesn't want to leave Atlanta and come right to Phil's flat, but he wants... that. Eventually. First, he wants a drawer in one of Phil's dressers, wants to text whenever he's outside, wants to meet Phil at the dog park with two coffees and a grin on his face.

Dan never really took himself for a hopeless romantic, but then again, he also never thought that he'd be able to date someone he wanted to be with for the long haul. Even a medium haul had been off the table with the girls he's dated since his last actual relationship. It was always going to be missing something.

When Thor starts whining and tugging at the lead a bit harder, Dan smiles. "You wanna go home, cutie?" he murmurs, spotting the distinctive blue of Phil's front door. "Let's take you home."

\--

The questions are the same every time. Not the exact same, no, but still the same. Every publication and media site wants to know the same shit about the show, and they don't even have all the answers. 

"No, we haven't heard about a new season yet," Jaime is saying for the third time in one morning, with some kind of unending patience that Dan will never understand. "Trust me, the internet will know as soon as we know. Of course it would be nice to keep working - I don't think my character's storyline is anywhere near done!"

She laughs, but Dan can tell that it's forced. It's starting to take a strain on her, too, and he knows that they're all just waiting for something original to come up. Patrick has zoned out, pulling a Full Dan and staring off into space.

There aren't any pins for Dan to comment on this time, even if he'd wanted to. The morning has been slogging, not least since he'd left Phil still asleep in bed with a kiss to his sweet-smelling hair. Dan is so tired, but he knows they're _all_ so tired. There's nothing for them to do but paste smiles on their faces and deflect spoilery questions while they count down the minutes to their free afternoon. Well, Jaime and Patrick have a free afternoon. Dan is going to have his hands full.

His mum had agreed to bring Colin happily and mooned over Thor's photo, but Dan has been perplexed by the fact that she didn't even ask whose dog it was. He wants to tell her, wants to be clear that he hasn't gone and got himself a big responsibility just yet, but there's a larger, pettier part of Dan that wants to keep Phil to himself until his mum is face to face with him. Dan wants to _see_ if she has to school her expression, wants to know if this is an arms-length continuation of their relationship or the start of something rocky and healing.

Since Patrick is off in his own world, Dan tries his best to be present for this interview. He makes the interviewer laugh and tells stupid anecdotes to keep the attention off of everything Jaime won't say about her character arc.

It's a good thing he is paying attention, because Dan isn't sure how he'd have reacted if he'd been caught off guard by, "And as I'm sure you're aware, a lot of fans have been speculating about on-set romances. Is there any truth to those rumours or is that just some fun for the fans?"

Jaime snorts loudly. It's very unladylike. Dan is so, so fond of her.

"Uh, no," says Jaime. "I mean, if you're talking about between the three of us - which I have seen, the shipping isn't as quiet as y'all think it is - then, I'm sorry, but there's no way. I won't even act like there is to keep people guessing. I'm not going to date Daniel or Patrick for, like, twenty thousand reasons. If you want to talk about _Tanner_, though..."

She winks and trills her real laugh, which makes Dan laugh in turn. Jaime's crush on the man who plays Patrick's father is such an open secret that he's surprised more people don't ask her about it. Maybe they think it's a sensitive or uncomfortable subject, but Jaime's got no compunctions about loudly fancying someone who is both a decade older than her and married. The interviewer's laugh is a bit less genuine.

"Really?" he asks, sounding skeptical enough that Dan wonders if he ought to be offended. "And the two of you think the same? No chance?"

What? If they did want to be with Jaime, why the fuck would they say that in an interview right after she'd denounced them as romantic interests? Dan wonders if this guy understands that's an insane thing to expect, or if he's just trying to get a reaction out of them. 

"Er, yeah," Dan says. He looks at his costars for backup. Jaime shrugs, and Patrick seems to have only just realised he's being spoken to and has the panic of 'what was just asked of me?' in his eyes that Dan is all too familiar with. He decides to word his answer clearly enough that he can help get Patrick up to speed as well. "I mean, like, we're all just good friends. I don't think any of us have any interest in more than that. And honestly, if we did disagree with Jaime, we wouldn't force our feelings on her anyway. That'd be fuc- I mean, that would be messed up."

He sees the glint of triumph in the interviewer's face and groans internally. Fuck, he should have stayed in bed.

"Interesting," he says, "that you've already thought about a situation where you have unrequited feelings for your on-screen girlfriend?"

Yeah, Dan thinks. Super interesting. He's kissed Jaime a thousand fucking times for the camera and it doesn't do anything for him, thanks ever so. He sighs and runs a hand through his straightened fringe so he doesn't slap himself in the face for opening this can of worms.

"Look, I get that a lot of fans want to know," Dan says, keeping his tone as light as possible. "The thing is that I'd like to keep my personal life private. I'm happy to tell you that it doesn't involve Jaime in any way, though."

"I'm fine with my personal life being public," Patrick deadpans. "There's nothing going on in it and that's how I like it. We're all equally pathetic that way, right?"

"Oi," Dan says, unable to hide his offense. The lack of sleep is really making his filter drop, and that's dangerous.

Jaime throws him a life vest before the interviewer can jump on his reaction, patting Dan's knee and saying, "You know, Patrick, some of us are pathetic in many more ways. Like, do you remember the time..."

And off she goes, weaving a story about Dan making an ass of himself. He interjects at all the right moments, laughs and groans in equal measure, covers his face when he starts to legitimately blush at the memory of an entire Starbucks thinking he'd gone insane.

He's comfortable with sharing that amount with his fans, he thinks. He's not dating Jaime, he never will be dating Jaime, and he's a private person. That's really all they need to know for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much to everyone for reading and commenting and being just so, so kind about this morosexual propaganda piece. and an extra thank you to eve and danae for helping birth this stupid thing and keeping me motivated to continue! i love all of you!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another disclaimer that i don't know dan's family and this is fiction etc also a disclaimer that my lovely beta was unavailable this week so all mistakes are mine!
> 
> thank you ALL for coming on this journey with me. next & final chapter up on monday!
> 
> read and reblog this chapter on tumblr [here!](https://dayevsphil.tumblr.com/post/188134409293/cant-breathe-when-you-touch-my-sleeve-chapter)

The last time that Dan was alone with his mum for longer than a few minutes at a time over Christmas, their conversation had felt awkward and stilted. All of the things they had to say to each other lingered right below the surface, sharpening the edges of the conversation in a way neither of them knew how to acknowledge.

That's what Dan expects this lunch to be like. He thinks he's prepared for every option of what his mum might say to him, carefully building up the familiar walls in case he needs them, but.

She arrives late with apologies on her lips and Colin in her arms, frazzled as always, and it's almost comforting to Dan that she hasn't gotten any more punctual since he moved out. That's something they share that used to drive his dad up the wall. Maybe it still does. Dan wouldn't know. The only reason he's on time is that he came straight from work to nab a table at the dog-friendly brunch place that Yelp insists is good, and he's been happily dog-watching since he sat down. 

"Sorry, sorry, hi," his mum is saying, dropping Colin on Dan's lap without warning. "Traffic was a bloody mess."

"That's alright," Dan says, but the words are coming out on autopilot. He scratches Colin's fuzzy head and blinks back the wetness that threatens to well up behind his eyes. 

It's been a good few months since he'd last seen Colin, and he's as cute as ever. Dan can bet that the collar is brand new, though - the vertical stripes on it are narrow and the hues are garish, but there's no doubt about what it is.

"It's nice, yeah?" his mum asks as she sits across from them, clearly noticing Dan's preoccupation. "I hope I grabbed the right one."

Dan swallows around the growing lump in his throat and lets his fingers brush over the bright rainbow around Colin's neck, making sure it's there and real. It's a gesture that he didn't expect, and one he has no idea how to deal with. He keeps petting Colin absently and meets his mum's eyes. 

"It's perfect," he tells her. "Suits him."

"Suits you," she counters lightly. She gives him a soft, sad sort of smile. "Caught you on the telly yesterday. I haven't seen you look this happy in a long time, bear."

Oh, fuck. Dan is _not_ going to cry, not surrounded by dogs and strangers in this weirdly bougie restaurant in Chelsea. He wipes hurriedly at his eyes and feels a rush of gratitude when his mum pretends she hasn't seen, looks down at the menu.

He hadn't expected this. He doesn't know why, since he'd thought about a million and one ways that this lunch could be awkward or painful, but he somehow never thought she'd be so... supportive.

And maybe that's not fair of him. His mum had supported him when he'd dropped out of school, when he'd bought a one-way ticket with his shitty Asda paychecks, when he came home from drinking in the park at three in the morning with a split lip. She hasn't been perfect by any means, and because of that Dan has always assumed that her support was conditional even if her love was not.

Vividly, he remembers the way she'd cheer on the sidelines of any game he or Adrian played - although Adrian had _wanted_ to play, the absolute freak - and how embarrassed he'd felt at the time, hot under the collar from the attention.

"I am happy," Dan tells her. They are both looking at their menus now, one of his hands shaking on Colin's back. "I'm - it feels good to be honest with myself and with you guys."

"With yourself?" his mum asks, her voice softer than he's heard it since he was a child. "Oh, Daniel. You didn't know?"

That's not something he really wants to get into with her, but Dan understands why she's asking. He's almost thirty years old. She'd probably just thought he was keeping it from her, not smothering his own wants for fifteen years. "No, like. I knew. But I didn't want to know. It's not like it's been fucking easy, has it? So I just. Pretended it wasn't there as best as I could, and. I've been pretending for a really long time, mum."

There's more to it, but she doesn't need to know any of that. Dan doesn't want to sit there and tell his mother how much he'd hated himself, how unsafe he'd felt at school and home and out with his 'friends', how there had been a point where he didn't want to live at all if he had to be gay.

Dan had definitely come a long way in the decade or so since then, but he'd done that by keeping a box of feelings locked up tight and ignoring the voice in his head that reminded him how much he wanted men.

Now, he feels... okay. He's going to be okay. 

His mum's hand covers his on the table, the size difference between them almost comical.

"I love you," she says. "Blimey, I can't even imagine. I'm so glad you told me, Daniel. I feel like... like we don't really know each other that well."

Maybe a week ago, that might have gotten Dan's back up against the wall. _And whose fault is that?_ he thinks but doesn't sneer, because his mum had put a rainbow collar on Colin and keeps saying she loves him. He can fight past the automatic defensiveness.

Dan runs a hand over Colin to calm himself back down, smiling when Colin licks his hand. Eventually, he feels like he can respond to her without snapping something he'd regret later. "That's true."

Luckily, their waiter stops by their table with three waters - two in glasses, one in a bowl - and effectively startles Dan and his mum out of the very serious conversation they'd decided to have in a public place. The conversation moves on to their jobs, Adrian's various adventures, and how good of a boy Colin is. Dan remembers to ask after his grandparents and his mum snorts into her vegan pancakes at one of his jokes, so. It's all going suspiciously well.

They even have the waiter take a photo of the three of them, which is surreal to Dan. He's not used to this, to _wanting_ to have a physical reminder of any time he's spent with his family, but they're having such a nice start to the afternoon. 

There are moments where Dan can feel the gap more deeply, though. Stories that carefully don't include his father. Questions she asks that he doesn't know the answer to.

It gets to a point, boiling up inside of Dan, that he has to ask before he explodes.

"Mum," he says, quiet. They're nearly done eating, which means that if this goes badly Dan can easily hug his mum goodbye and go take comfort in Phil's lap. "Did you... did you tell Dad about my text?"

He's nervous to look at her when he asks, but he's glad that he didn't try to hide. The anger that flashes across her face for a split second is so vindicating that Dan can't even imagine how differently he'd feel about his mother if he'd never seen that.

"I did," she says shortly.

There's a beat. "I suppose you're going to tell me that he'll come around and he loves me?"

"I'm not going to tell you anything of the sort," his mum says. Dan is desperate to look away now, doesn't like seeing that disapproving twist of her mouth even if it isn't directed at him. "You're both grown men and can make your own decisions. I made mine, that's all I can do."

Dan swallows hard and gives Colin a nibble on his bacon so he has an excuse to break eye contact with her. "Adrian's fine with it."

"Well, of course he is. And of course I am too, Daniel, because even if I had some issue with gay people - which I don't," she stresses the words like she's trying to convince Dan, "one of my best friends is a lesbian, she's a lovely woman - I would still prioritize my son who I love over any of that prejudicial nonsense. It takes a very special kind of person to think that anything about their child is worth not speaking to them."

Ten, fifteen years ago, Dan had been convinced that everyone in his life would hate him for this part of him that he kept under wraps. He hated himself, why would other people be any different?

And maybe that could have been the case back then, before society started to get its shit together a little bit and 'gay' stopped being synonymous with 'bad'. There's no way to know for sure, and he supposes it doesn't really matter. That's not the timeline he lives in.

Dan chances a glance at his mum, who is idly folding her napkin into various floppy origami shapes like she needs to be doing something with her hands.

The question sticks in his throat, but Dan forces it out anyway. His mum has said a lot of nice things that he's going to cry about when he's alone, but he needs to know how far that extends.

"And... am I still invited to Christmas?"

His mum blinks up at him, looking a bit startled. "Of course you're still coming to Christmas. My home is your home and always will be, don't be stupid. If your father wants to put his own selfish arse over his sons, then he can be the one to fuck off. We don't need him to have a good holiday."

Dan buries his face in Colin's fur and squeezes his eyes shut for just a moment, letting the gratitude and grief wash over him. 

Out of every scenario he'd pictured, Dan never even thought to hope for this kind of unconditional acceptance. He knows that they still have a long way to go, that he and his mum will always have things they can't say to each other and that Adrian will never be his best friend, but. They're trying. All three of them are trying to navigate this so that they can be a bit closer, know each other better, and that's a start.

\--

The park isn't far, but Dan's mum insists on driving so she doesn't have to walk back and get her car later. Dan hates how much he relates to that.

An old CD blares over the car's shitty speakers, knocking Dan back into childhood the way few things can. Some indie punk bullshit from the 90s that he still somehow knows all the words to. They both sing along to it and his mum scream-laughs when Colin barks, coincidentally in rhythm with the drums.

Dan is having fun with his mum, a concept that is so foreign to him he's half convinced it's a sleep-deprived hallucination, and he almost forgets to text Phil that they're on their way.

**Ok! We're already here, Thor insisted lmao**, Phil sends back immediately, and Dan feels a little bad that he hasn't been keeping Phil updated all morning. Still, he supposes, he was working and then dealing with family bullshit, so he supposes that Phil will understand.

They park a little ways down the road and Dan feels odd in the sudden quiet of the car. The things they don't talk about seem to fill the space between them, creeping in as the nostalgia fades.

"Mum," he says, and she pauses in the midst of opening her door. "I... thank you, for this. It means a lot to me that you came today."

"Of course," his mum says like it really is that obvious.

"You might see more of me soon, if you'd like to," Dan tells her, putting Colin on his lead so he doesn't have to make eye contact. "I'm thinking about moving to London."

"Oh, Daniel, that's wonderful," she says, warm, and Dan's heart hurts so fucking much. Their relationship has always been a bit complicated, strained, but he's willing to make an effort if she is.

He gives her a small smile and gets out of the car with Colin, the sincerity in her voice suddenly too much to handle in such a small space. While they walk, he chats to Colin about how nice the park is and how there are a lot of new friends for him to play with. He likes to think that Colin's tail wags faster at the information. 

The sound of the gate opening makes a bunch of dogs look over, the way it always does, and Thor starts bounding toward Dan as fast as his stubby legs can carry him.

"Thor, you can't just - oh, Dan!"

Phil stops chasing after Thor and just approaches them at a regular pace, grinning. 

"Don't worry, he's not making an escape," Dan laughs, crouching down to greet Thor and holding tight to Colin's lead just in case.

Thor licks at Dan's free hand and then sniffs at Colin, who seems chill with it. He's such a calm dog, Dan loves him so much. Dan is so busy overseeing this introduction that he nearly misses the humans above him introducing themselves to each other.

"Hi, I'm Phil, and this is Thor! You must be Mrs. Howell."

Dan's mum pulls a face, and for a terrifying second Dan thinks she was all talk after all, that she really does care now that she's faced with a man, but she just says, "Not hardly. Call me Karen or call me nothing."

The problem, of course, is that Phil is predictable. Dan knows the joke is coming a split second before he brightly says, "Nice to meet you, Nothing."

Thankfully, his mum laughs. 

"Cheeky. This young man here is Colin."

Phil crouches down too, his eyes meeting Dan's for a brief, nervous moment before he's holding out his hand for Colin to shake. Colin, the very good boy he is, sits down and shakes paw. 

"And very nice to meet you," Phil says solemnly. Dan had no idea his heart could fit any more of Phil in it, but it swells three sizes like the fucking Grinch. Dan's sure it's written all over his face, but he doesn't need to hide that from anyone here. He's allowed to be obviously smitten over his boyfriend. "I've heard so much about you."

It's all far too genuine for Dan, suddenly, this whole thing, so he snorts and unhooks Colin from the lead. 

"You're such a dork," he tells Phil as they both stand, the dogs chasing each other around now that they've both been released. Phil just shrugs and grins, hands in his pockets.

He looks nice in his buttoned shirt, short sleeves showing off his arms and a headache-inducing print enough to make Dan ridiculously fond, but he also looks a bit anxious. Dan knows the feeling.

"Wanna sit?" he asks his mum, gesturing to a picnic table. She rolls her eyes.

"I've been sitting all morning, Daniel," she says lightly. "I think I can handle craning my neck to look at you lot."

_Quick getaway_, Dan's depression gremlin shouts. _She doesn't want to be here, she's just acting nice because she's afraid you're on a ledge, just like Adrian was, none of them actually accept you or want you to be around..._

It always gets harder to shut up the less he's slept, so Dan has to ride the wave of self-hatred until Phil smiles down at his mum and starts making easy conversation. 

Phil is so good at this part. He's not relaxed, Dan can tell by the set of his shoulders and the awkward way his hands are sticking out of his jean pockets, but some combination of radio training and natural charm make him seem like nothing is more thrilling than hearing about Dan's mum's drive to the city.

Dan isn't good at this part. He tunes out a bit and starts taking photos and videos of the dogs whenever they come close enough. They're fast friends, and Dan likes the idea of orchestrating puppy playdates when he lives here.

He zones back in when he hears his name, blinking over at them like he's fallen asleep standing up.

"What?" he bleats.

"We weren't talking to you," Phil informs him, his lips twitching. 

"You're talking about me, then?"

They exchange an amused, exasperated sort of look. Dan suddenly isn't very sure at all that this was a good idea. Of course Dan's mum likes Phil, it's impossible not to like Phil. Now they're just going to gang up on him all the bloody time.

Even in Dan's own mind he can't pretend like that's a bad thing.

"I was just saying," Dan's mum says, "that I wanted to thank Phil for bringing you back to England. I know you've been talking about doing it for years, kid, but you do tend to put things off."

"Like I said, Karen," Phil says with a level of familiarity that Dan isn't sure how to feel about. It's just the way the Lesters act, but it isn't the way the Howells are. It's strange to watch his mum try and keep up with the vibe of a man who's talking like he's known her his whole life. "It's really nothing to do with me."

"Oh, bollocks," his mum says. Dan laughs.

There's still so much he and his mum don't know about each other, things they need to reconnect on, but that doesn't mean it isn't obvious to anyone with eyes that Dan's plan is only changing _right now_ because of Phil coming into his life.

"Well, can you blame me?" he jokes, some of the knot in his chest easing. She really doesn't mind, does she? Not the way he thought she would.

"Not at all," she says, and Phil ducks his head with a stupidly shy sort of smile. Dan wants to kiss it off his face.

Colin trudges up to them then, panting and whining a bit, and they all coo nonsense at him. He's always so lazy and chilled out over Christmas, Dan bets he doesn't do the zoomies with super excitable dogs very often. 

"Seems like Colin's done for the day," says Dan. He leashes Colin and hands the lead to his mum. "It was really nice to see you both. Like, really. I had fun."

"No need to sound so surprised about it," his mum says dryly. They aren't huggers, really, not unless some traumatic shit is going down, so it doesn't surprise Dan when she just blows him a kiss goodbye. "Hopefully I'll see you both soon, yeah? Don't be strangers."

"Wouldn't dream of it," says Phil. He shifts closer to Dan, their shoulders knocking lightly together.

"Love you, mum," Dan says, because he feels like he has to after everything, and because it's the truth. She smiles up at him, so warm that something in Dan settles into place.

"Love you too, honey. It was really nice to meet you, Phil."

"Likewise," says Phil. He bumps into Dan again as they watch her and Colin walk away, the solidity of his shoulder keeping Dan grounded. Dan has had a very long, very emotionally taxing day, and that small bit of contact makes the stress of it all seep out of him at once. "You okay, Dan?"

The sleepless night is catching up with Dan, now that the anxiety is dissipating, and all he wants to do is melt into Phil's chest and take a long nap.

"I'm very okay," he says, surprised by how much he means it. "Let's go home, yeah?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you've all been so kind. i love you.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to eve, danae, neda, and all of you for coming along with me on this one. i love you very much!!!! i hope to see you back for my next self-indulgent, tropey adventure.
> 
> read and reblog this chapter on tumblr [here!](https://dayevsphil.tumblr.com/post/188200274563/cant-breathe-when-you-touch-my-sleeve-chapter)

"Do you need to do some laundry before bed?" Phil asks, stirring vegetables with the kind of dubious intensity that Dan recognises from setting one too many meals on fire himself. "Or is all your stuff dry-clean only?"

"Very funny," says Dan. He's keeping an eye on the rice, but it requires much less effort. "Yeah, I could do a load tomorrow."

Phil looks up from his skillet for the first time since he turned the heat on. "Tomorrow? Dan, you leave tomorrow."

"Not til like two," Dan says with a little shrug.

The way Phil is looking at him makes him laugh. He's never seen the man's eyes so wide and anxious, so like a deer in headlights. Dan gently nudges him away from the hob by the hip and takes over vegetable watch. 

"Dan," Phil says again, "that's not very much time. You don't want to pack tonight?"

"It sounds like _you_ probably want me to pack tonight, Phil," says Dan. "I'm good at throwing things together last minute, though. I'm not worried about being late."

"I'm worried about you being late," says Phil. "Wouldn't it be easier to pack tonight and just hang out tomorrow?"

Dan smirks and tosses the rice in with the vegetables and sauce, just to get it all stirred together. One of Phil's hands is settled on the small of his back as he needles Dan about this, and it all feels so disgustingly domestic that Dan almost can't handle it.

"Uh huh," he says, trying not to let the fondness seep too much into his tone. "So, what you're saying is, you want me to do my laundry tonight so you can keep me in bed all morning?"

"Yes, but also, I've got time anxiety," Phil chuckles. He presses a kiss to the back of Dan's neck, which makes him shiver.

"You've got anxiety about the concept of time? Honestly, same."

"Stupid," says Phil. He isn't trying to hide the fondness the way Dan is, the affection coming off him in waves as he presses himself into Dan's side, drops a kiss to Dan's shoulder. "That too, I suppose, but I mean about being late. I always have my stuff packed like, two days in advance."

"Absolutely cannot relate," Dan says, biting his lip to try and hide a smile. "But yeah. I can do a load so you're not anxious about my unpacked suitcase all night."

That's not something he would normally offer, because Dan is almost never _actually_ late and he's just fine with his current method of timekeeping, thanks, but he'd rather keep Phil in the best possible mood. And, okay, maybe it does sound kind of nice to just have a lie-in without running around to try and grab all the things he's somehow strewn across the flat in these short days.

It's strange, actually. Dan has spent a lot of his adult life on other people's couches and in hotel rooms, and he's good at keeping his stuff compartmentalized because of that. Something about how comfortable he feels here has him treating it like it's his own home. He's absolutely certain that Phil doesn't mind, if he even notices - it's not exactly obvious that Dan's chargers and straighteners and toothbrush haven't found their way back to his bags when Phil's junk is strewn across every possible surface.

Dan bumps his hip into Phil's and turns off the hob. "You ready to eat?"

"Literally always," says Phil. His hand leaves Dan's back, and Dan feels a bit bereft for it. 

Still, he supposes, joining Phil on the sofa to watch some MasterChef while Thor acts like he isn't quietly begging for scraps isn't the worst way to spend an evening. In fact, if that's the only way Dan wants to spend all his dinners from here on out, nobody has to know. 

\--

Dan takes a shower while Phil goes on a walk with the dog, and he spends more time zoning out than he does actually washing himself. His phone is blaring a playlist he doesn't even remember making, and while it has some real bangers on it, he keeps getting distracted trying to track down the memory of it in his brain. Then, of course, his mind just drifts from there.

He thinks about his family, about the emails he still hasn't checked, about Adrian spouting bullshit profoundness down a phone line. He thinks about Heatwave, and his role in the whole mess of it, and what Amy will say when he tells her that he doesn't want to be a part of it going forward. He thinks about London, about the way the city has felt like an eventuality before but not quite like this, about how Phil is really what makes it feel like a place Dan can settle down and build a life for himself.

Most of all, Dan thinks about how much it is going to suck to be away from Phil for however long they have to be.

Long distance relationships aren't exactly Dan's forte. Which, okay, to be fair, relationships generally are not exactly Dan's forte, but he understands how this part works. He understands sex and cuddling and kissing, even if it all feels like the dial has been turned up to eleven with Phil, but he's not a hundred percent sure how to keep this sort of energy when they're an entire ocean apart. Dan is kind of a jealous person with a yo-yo of self esteem, and Phil is a very handsome and charming man who surely has far better prospects than talking to Dan on Skype until he falls asleep.

And that thought process isn't one Dan really needs to go down, is it. 

He decides to try and trace back an inside joke to its inception while he washes his hair, because surely that's a better use of his time than heading down a rabbit hole of insecurity. He's still pondering that when there's a knock at the bathroom door and it opens.

"Hey, Dan?" Phil's voice comes, just loud enough to be heard over the shower and the music. Dan's eyes are closed so he doesn't get any fucking shampoo in them, and he has no idea if Phil is looking at him through the glass screen or not. He makes a noise to indicate he's heard Phil and tilts his head forward to start rinsing his hair. "You want me to throw your clothes in for you now? I can leave you something of mine to wear."

"I'd take something of yours anyway," Dan says, dry. He keeps his eyes closed. If he doesn't look, then he can live in a world where his boyfriend is checking him out just for the hell of it. Dan doesn't mind being watched by the right eyes.

"Of course you would. Anything that can't go in the wash?"

Dan grins and shrugs, even though Phil might not be looking at him. "I mean, read the fucking labels, mate. But yeah, none of my dress shirts."

"Got it." There's a beat of relative silence for so long that Dan starts to wonder if Phil has managed to leave the room without making noise - not Phil's strong suit at the best of times - but then he speaks again, low and amused. "If I were a murderer, Dan, you'd be so dead right now. Why are you facing the tap, you absolute freak?"

Water goes up Dan's nose when he laughs, and he's sure the sound of him cough-laughing isn't exactly attractive. He turns around and cracks an eye open to check if Phil is laughing at him or not.

Phil is resting against the bathroom counter with his arms crossed and a smirk playing around his pretty lips. If Dan were not _acutely_ aware of the injuries it would cause, he'd whinge until Phil joined him under the spray.

"I'm just having a face the tap kind of day," he informs Phil, making sure his hair is completely devoid of any shampoo that might sneak-attack his eyes and make him look even more hilariously incompetent than he already does. "You just gonna stand there and look at me?"

"Tempting," says Phil. He leans over and picks up the pile of clothes that Dan had discarded beside the bath mat. "But one of us needs to get this done."

"Oi, I said I'd do it."

The grin Phil sends his way makes Dan's knees feel a bit wobbly, like he's a teenager all over again. "I know. I didn't believe you."

Honestly, that's fair. Dan is better at putting things off than he is getting off his ass to do it right away. He pretends to be offended, anyway, because it's more fun than conceding defeat. "Excuse me? I'm a man of my word, Philip."

"I believe you'd do it eventually," says Phil. "But if I do it now, then you can be naked in my bed once you're done wasting all my hot water. See? I think ahead."

"Go away," Dan laughs.

"I'm doing a nice thing!" Phil protests, but he's laughing too. He lets his gaze drift over Dan's body again, unapologetic about checking him out in a way that makes Dan's heart beat a bit faster, and then he's gone. The door closes behind him, and Dan covers his face with both hands to hide his blush from the empty bathroom and Frank Ocean's crooning.

God, he's so far gone for this guy. It's genuinely fucking ridiculous.

He doesn't spend too much more time in the shower, because his boyfriend is waiting for him. And, fuck, that still feels so goddamn weird to think. Boyfriend. Dan has a boyfriend. It's actually surreal.

Dan dries himself off and wraps the towel around his hips, because Phil hasn't come back to give him pyjamas. He turns off his mystery playlist and pushes wet curls off his forehead before he leaves the fogged-up bathroom.

"He emerges," Phil jokes, barely looking up from his phone. "Clothes are in the dresser if you want to put them on."

"If I want to?" Dan repeats with a big grin. He likes looking at Phil's long legs spread over his colourful bedsheets, glasses perched on his nose and his hair sticking up a bit at the back. He looks comfortable and soft, and Dan truly considers throwing on something soft and curling up for another nap. Or sleep, at this point, if Phil lets him sleep through the night. But he's leaving so soon, he wants more than that. "Yeah. I don't really want to."

The way Phil's lips twitch make Dan feel certain that Phil didn't really want him to, either. He puts his phone aside and raises his eyebrows at Dan. "C'mere, then."

As tempting as it is to just collapse into Phil's lap right away, Dan is getting the hang of this 'sharing a small space with a dog' thing. He has to use treats _and_ toys to lure Thor out of the room this time, gamely ignoring Phil's snickers at his attempts. Thor is so dubious at this point, not particularly enjoying being put away, but he eventually does follow Dan into the bathroom and curl up with his rope and a reproachful look at Dan. It's very distracting, but Dan manages to remember to grab a couple of condoms. The lube is still on one of the nightstands, on the side Dan has been trying pretty hard not to think of as his own.

"You know," Dan says as he hangs his towel on a hook, closes the bathroom door behind him. "When I get a place in London, it's going to have more than two rooms. So even if you _do_ bring Thor over, we can shut a door without him getting mad at me."

"I think he'd get mad anyway," says Phil. He sounds distracted, looking Dan over again, and Dan preens a bit under the attention.

It's not that Dan doesn't know what he looks like. He's not going to win any awards for his face or body or whatever, but he's not exactly a bridge troll. He's seen himself on screen and heard enough people talk about him in complimentary ways that he _knows_, more or less, the way people tend to react when they look at him, but.

Just like everything else, it feels like so much more with Phil. Normally, Dan feels anywhere from gratified to indifferent by people finding him attractive, but when Phil looks at him like that, he just feels... wanted. In a really, really good way.

"Probably," Dan says, putting a hand on his hip. His pulse jumps at the way Phil's eyes track the movement, how they linger on Dan's dick. So what if he's getting a bit hard just from being looked at? Dan doesn't mind being watched by the right eyes, and Phil's are definitely the right eyes. He can't find it in himself to be embarrassed about it, not when Phil doesn't seem to find it funny in the slightest.

"Come here," Phil says again, more firmly.

Dan does as he's told, straddling Phil's thighs and grinning at him. He takes Phil's glasses off his face, puts them and the condoms on the nightstand for safekeeping. Phil blinks a bunch and grins back at him.

"You're wearing a lot of clothes," Dan notes, toying with the collar of Phil's shirt. He hasn't changed all day, and as much as Dan likes looking at him in this tacky print, he'd much prefer to see the pale skin and downy hair and shock of metal beneath it. "That's gonna be a problem."

"Oh, is it?" Phil teases, running his cool hands over Dan's thighs, his flank, his ass. It's like he can't decide where to settle them, not that Dan is complaining about the exploration.

"Yeah, but don't worry, I can fix it." Dan flicks the buttons of Phil's shirt open, pressing his lips to Phil's collarbone as soon as the bright fabric is out of the way. He feels Phil exhale as one of his hands tangles loosely in Dan's hair.

The texture of Phil's jeans feels weird against Dan's bare inner thighs. He leans forward a bit so less of his skin is touching denim before doing something he hasn't done since he was a literal teenager. He bites down rather gently on Phil's pale collarbone and soothes it with his tongue, giving Phil plenty of opportunity to protest before he goes in properly to leave a mark.

Dan finishes unbuttoning Phil's shirt while he sucks and nips at Phil's clavicle, and he lets his large hands map out the rest of Phil's torso while he darkens the bruise to his satisfaction.

Little sighs keep escaping Phil's lips as he runs his fingers through Dan's damp hair, and Dan is sure that he would have been tugged away by now if this wasn't good for Phil, too. Dan brushes his fingertips over Phil's ribs and bites down harder, just to see where the line is.

Phil's breath hitches. Otherwise, he doesn't really react.

"You're like a vampire," he comments, his voice low and dry and very, very attractive to Dan. "Do you bite all the boys?"

"Nah," Dan murmurs, nosing at the small, blossoming bruises. He likes the way they look, hopes that Phil will send him photos later with them on display. "Just you. Want you to think about me while I'm gone."

"Trust me," says Phil. "That was never going to be a problem. D'you like getting them, too, or do you just like giving them?"

What a perfect set up to a shitty joke. Dan's favourite. He grins wide and winks up at Phil, tweaking Phil's nipple ring as he does. "Oh, I'm versatile."

Even with his shirt pushed open, his cheeks pinked, his eyes dark and intense despite not being able to see much of anything, Phil manages to roll his eyes. "Yeah, alright. D'you want a hickey or not?"

"Yes, please," Dan says cheerfully. "Nowhere I might accidentally flash to a camera."

Phil hums and looks Dan over, thoughtful. Dan feels his dick twitch at the attention and resists the ridiculous urge to cover himself.

"Okay," says Phil, patting Dan's thighs decisively. "Lie down."

"Sounds good to me, my dude," says Dan. He laughs as he rolls off of Phil and onto his back, suddenly remembering something he'd said to Phil on what he now knows was their first date. "Never sit when you can lie down, am I right?"

"You are right," Phil says dryly. He shrugs off his shirt and lets it fall to the floor. "You are also very annoying."

"Is this because I dude-zoned you?" 

Phil's lips twitch, and he smacks at the general direction of Dan's thigh. He misses, hits the mattress instead, and Dan can't hold back a snort. Phil's depth perception is shot without his glasses, and Dan is so endeared by his confused blinking.

"Where are you?" Phil murmurs, mostly to himself, and stretches his hand out to connect with Dan's hip. "Aha. There you are. Got you."

"I literally was not moving." This time, the slap does connect with Dan's thigh. He doesn't really mind, but he makes a big show of sulking about it anyway. "Ow, rude."

"As if that hurt," Phil says dismissively. He trails his hand over Dan's hip and lower stomach before he moves to settle between Dan's legs, as if he's using his palm to map out where he needs to be.

Okay, yeah, Dan can work with this. He wiggles to get more comfortable and arches a bit into Phil's touch.

This always makes Dan feel so vulnerable. He knows that Phil can't see him clearly, but that doesn't seem to matter to that sense of shame that Dan still hasn't managed to eradicate. Phil presses his lips to Dan's thigh and Dan spreads his legs wider in response, blushing furiously and thanking his lucky stars that Phil probably won't notice it.

Dan knows what he wants, and normally he'd have no trouble asking for it, but he's nervous. It's hard to focus completely on the wet suction of Phil's mouth on his inner thigh when all Dan can think about is how terrifying this is to him. He can't figure out the source of the anxiety at first, mind drifting down various paths the way it had in the shower, but he's jolted back into the present when the sharp edge of Phil's teeth press against his skin.

Suddenly, it's obvious. Of course this is nerve-wracking. Everything that he's felt with Phil has been more intense than anything he's felt before, from such simple things as holding hands to the feeling of Phil's cock in his mouth, and Dan already _knows_ how much he likes being fucked. He's nervous about, like, blacking out or doing something else stupidly embarrassing like that.

Phil pulls back to look at the mark he's left on Dan's inner thigh as best as he can without perfect vision, and Dan tries his best to ignore whatever notions of shame and fear still try to make him feel like _less_ for enjoying something like this.

"Hey," he says, reaching for the bottle of lube before he can lose his nerve. "While you're down there, might as well make yourself useful."

It takes a bit of squinting, but Phil snorts a laugh when he figures out what Dan is holding out to him. "I thought I was already being useful," Phil says, "but sure, whatever you say."

"Don't act like it's a hardship," Dan huffs. He shifts down a bit, getting his hips in a more comfortable position. He can see a red flush all over his chest, and he bets his face looks even worse. He needs to keep fighting back that embarrassment, that shame. That fear of it being so good he won't know how to act. He doesn't want to tell Phil everything, but he wants to somewhat explain himself in case Phil can tell he's acting weird. "Though, like, guess you should know that it's been a while."

"How long we talking?" Phil hums as he brushes his thumb over Dan's dick, teasing.

"Uh," says Dan. "Like, uni."

That makes Phil sit up a bit and furrow his brow in the general direction of Dan's face. "Dan, that's almost -"

"I know," Dan groans, covering his red face with both hands. "I _know_ it's been almost ten fucking years, Phil, but I'm not going to fucking - break, or freak out, or whatever. I _do_ fuck myself, okay, it's just been since uni that another person's done it for me."

"Okay," Phil says, his voice soft and soothing. He squeezes Dan's thighs and leans in to press a chaste kiss to the pudge of Dan's tummy.

"Okay?" Dan repeats, his heart beating way too fast to match Phil's serenity.

"Yeah, okay," says Phil. He smiles. "You say you're okay, I believe you. Just keep talking to me, okay? And you can change your mind whenever."

Dan swallows around a sudden lump in his throat. Fuck, he shouldn't be getting so emotional just because someone about to fuck him is treating him gently, but he might have more issues around this than he'd thought he did. He reaches down to tangle his fingers with Phil's, squeezing both of his hands. 

"Oh, so now you want me to talk?" he teases.

His voice doesn't come out nearly as conversational as he wants it to, but Phil is kind enough not to draw attention to it. Instead, he just asks, "You want me to suck you off? Give you something else to focus on?"

"Are you that coordinated?" Dan asks, trying his best to get the light atmosphere back. He can't deal with the weight of emotion right this second, not when he's leaving so fucking soon. He's got enough emotions to deal with about that, he doesn't need to add more onto his plate. He isn't exactly 'good' with 'emotion'.

Thankfully, Phil laughs. He pinches Dan's thigh, close to where he'd left a bruise but not quite on it. "Hey, fuck you."

"That's what I'm saying," Dan laughs too, wiggling his hips. "Fuck me."

Phil still isn't looking directly at Dan's face, but his reassuring little grin still hits Dan as hard as it would have if they were staring into each other's eyes. He settles back down between Dan's spread legs and taps at Dan's thigh.

"Lift," he instructs, and Dan knows he's blushing even deeper as he hooks a leg over Phil's bare shoulder, making things a bit easier on both of them. God, but the vulnerability is so much worse like this. Dan likes being looked at by the right eyes, but the feeling of being on display like this makes him squirmy somewhere in his gut. Phil hums against Dan's thigh, presses soft kisses over it until the muscle relaxes. "Be easier if you put the condom on for me, yeah?"

All too happy to have something to focus on that isn't the feeling of Phil's fingers brushing over his balls, Dan does as he's told.

It's easier like this, it really is. Phil is working by touch more than sight, and that becomes doubly true when Dan's dick is in his mouth and he's got his pretty, unfocused eyes closed. Dan fights back the panic threatening to overtake him, because this is just Phil.

It's just Phil. And more than anyone else he's ever met, Dan thinks that he probably trusts this man the most. He tangles his fingers in Phil's soft bedding, breathing deeply and doing his best to relax when Phil goes ahead and rubs his fingers over Dan, presses a tiny bit inside him, makes a questioning sort of noise around Dan's cock.

"Yeah," Dan breathes, letting his own eyes fall closed so he can just think about how good this feels. "It's good, you can keep going."

And it is. It's really, really good. Dan already knows he likes this, knows that a finger inside him while a hot mouth is wrapped around his cock is one of the better things for him in bed, but Phil sure does turn this up to eleven, too.

Phil isn't even trying to get him off right now, is the thing. He's sucking Dan lazily, keeping his cock warm more than actually blowing him, and his finger - fingers, after a minute, and that slight stretch makes Dan bite back a truly mortifying noise - aren't seeking out Dan's prostate, but none of that makes this any less _good_ for Dan.

He doesn't treat Dan like he's made of glass, and Dan appreciates that almost as much as he appreciates the steady thrum of pleasure coursing through him as Phil gets him ready. He had been a bit wary that admitting the length of time would make Phil gentle and nervous, as if Dan were a bloody virgin or something, but he should really stop projecting so many of his own anxieties on a man who is clearly more well-adjusted than Dan.

The only thing Phil does is slow down when Dan has been quiet for too long, make some prompting noises, pull off him to remind Dan to breathe with him. It's considerate in a way that doesn't make Dan feel embarrassed and smothered, and Dan could fucking kiss him for that. In fact, he will, as soon as Phil comes back into kissing distance. Dan could never articulate any of this to Phil, of course, but he can kiss him until he gets the general idea.

Dan babbles. Of course he does, he's been given explicit permission to do so. It's all a jumble of affirmations and curses, not exactly sensical, but he doesn't think Phil expects him to be talking in proper sentences right this second.

Eventually, though, Dan groans and reaches for Phil's hair, pulling him off. "Okay, okay, fuck. I'm good, need you now."

He opens his eyes and has to swallow another noise at how good Phil looks right now, all reddened mouth and darkened eyes. He surely can't see the way Dan is gawping at him, but the way he smirks makes Dan think that maybe he can sense it. "What exactly do you need?" Phil asks, playing dumb. Dan would kick him if he was physically able to.

"I'm going to kick you," Dan informs him.

"Wow, abuse of the boyfriend," says Phil. He nips at Dan's stomach and sits up with a little roll of his neck, stretching it. "I'm just asking for some clarity, Daniel, you already have me."

"You're terrible," says Dan. "This is terrible. If you don't have your dick inside me in the next ten seconds, you're sleeping on the sofa."

Phil's fake-innocent mask breaks as he giggles, tongue poking out from between his teeth. "This is my bed!" he protests.

Honestly, Dan doesn't care whose bed it is. This is a ridiculous argument to be having when Phil's got three of his fingers in Dan's ass.

"Ten," Dan threatens like he would with a small child, and Phil laughs even harder at him. Dan can feel giggles threatening to bubble up from his own chest, and he tries to hold back a very unsexy snort. "Shut _up_, oh my god, you're the absolute worst."

"I'm not the one whining about not getting my way," Phil points out.

"Hi, have we met? I'm Dan."

Phil rolls his eyes to the ceiling and shakes his head. The loss of his fingers makes Dan whine involuntarily, and he whines even louder when Phil stands up.

Thankfully, Phil only stays off the bed long enough to shuck his jeans and pants off. Dan reaches for him, wraps a hand around Phil's cock and revels in the soft, surprised 'oh' of a noise that falls from Phil's lips. He's hard and heavy and Dan _has_ to know if that Prince Albert will do anything for him when Phil is inside him. He gives Phil a couple strokes and tears open another condom. Maybe if Dan were a less lazy person, he'd take his own off now that it isn't needed, but - hey, it's already there, clean-up's going to be a lot easier. Whatever.

He doesn't think he can stay on his back. He isn't entirely convinced that he won't get teary if this feels at all like this 'making love' thing people keep talking about, first of all, but Dan also has far more practical excuses for rolling onto his front. His thighs are starting to cramp up, and the other people who live in this building would surely appreciate Dan's loud mouth being pressed into a pillow. Dan has so many things he could say to Phil if he asks about the change of position, but Phil doesn't ask.

A cool palm runs over Dan's lower back and rests on his hip, squeezing. Dan sighs and buries his nose further into the pillowcase. It smells like Phil's fruity shampoo, and that's comforting. This isn't as scary now that Dan remembers exactly how at ease Phil puts him, has been able to since they met.

Phil working mostly by touch gives Dan enough warning that he doesn't quite gasp when he feels the head of Phil's cock pressing against him, but he does groan into Phil's pillow.

He definitely forgot to warn Phil about his volume control issues. It would be fairly redundant to do it now, Dan thinks, because the barely-muffled sound he makes when Phil starts to sink into him is already the loudest one he's made in Phil's presence.

Phil pauses, squeezing Dan's hip again. "Hey. Good or bad?"

Dan turns his face just enough to laugh breathlessly, stretching his arms out to hold onto the pillow. "Uh, fucking incredible."

"Yeah," Phil agrees, voice so low that Dan can practically feel it vibrating down his spine. He rolls his hips carefully and makes a choked-off laugh of a noise when Dan outright moans, only able to hide the tail end of it in the pillow. "Christ. You weren't kidding, yeah? You really like this?"

Eyes closed, practically suffocating himself, Dan does his best to nod.

He does. He _really_ likes this.

The thing is, he still isn't really sure that he's able to vocalize that, at least not right this second. Dan rocks his hips back instead of trying to articulate some kind of response, heat sparking through him at the motion. God, but it really has been a long time since Dan has gotten fucked. Phil lets his hips snap forward to meet Dan's little thrusts, and, yeah. Fuck.

Dan was right. This feels so much better than any other cock he's ever had, and it isn't because the ball of Phil's piercing keeps nudging against Dan's prostate _just_ right or because he's thick enough to stretch Dan _just_ the way he likes - or, okay, it isn't solely because of those things. They do help.

It's just because this is Phil rocking into him, pressing kisses over his shoulders, making little breathy noises whenever Dan clenches around him.

Honestly, Dan had no idea that liking someone so much and trusting them with his body would make sex this much better. Sure, yeah, it makes logical sense or whatever, but it isn't something he could have ever guessed he'd get to experience.

He’s still overthinking when a particularly hard thrust has him rushing to the edge faster than he has in a long time, making his entire mind short-circuit.

"Oh," he moans, curling his hands into fists in Phil’s pillow and nodding into the fabric. "Oh, fuck, s-sorry, close -"

Phil's laugh turns into a groan, and Dan thinks that's the hottest thing he's ever heard. "The fuck are you sorry for, Dan?" He slides one of his hands around to play with Dan's cock, tight enough that Dan doesn't even fucking care about the latex barrier keeping him from the texture of Phil's palm. Phil presses more of his weight onto Dan, kisses the side of his neck, murmurs directly into his ear. "I _want_ you to come."

Yeah. Okay. Dan might be a bit suggestible. He bites down on Phil’s pillow as his orgasm hits, embarrassingly quickly. Maybe he does black out for a second, because he feels heat through his entire body one moment and absolutely boneless the next.

Phil is still kissing over his feverish skin when Dan comes back to himself, and the feeling of him grinding slow into Dan is hovering right on the knife edge of too-much.

"Fuck," Dan gasps, turning his head so he can breathe again. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth and he isn't sure that his arms will ever not be jelly again. He feels Phil stop moving, probably planning to pull out, and he whines a bit. "No, s'okay. You can finish, baby."

If Dan were more present, he might care that he's called someone baby unironically. As it is, he just wiggles back into Phil and revels in the moan he gets in response.

"You sure?" Phil checks, voice trembling the tiniest bit. It's like he's holding himself back. He doesn't have to do that, not with Dan.

"Very sure," says Dan. He closes his eyes, lets the too-much turn back into a low level thrum of pleasure. He's not nineteen anymore, he definitely can't go again tonight, but it still feels good to be making Phil feel good. He hums and reaches a hand back to hold onto Phil's, both of them pressed against Dan's hip. He feels loose-limbed, happy, and he doesn't second guess himself at all when he adds, "I like the way it feels. You can keep going."

"God," Phil breathes. He gives Dan a couple of slow, careful thrusts, testing the waters, but when Dan only makes a contented noise in response, Phil starts really fucking him again.

Dan holds tight to Phil's hand and lets Phil use him for his own end, murmuring absolute nonsense to help him along. Just, "Yeah, that's it, doesn't it feel good, you feel good", that sort of thing.

Still, Phil does get there before Dan stops enjoying the oversensitive feeling. His rhythm falters a couple of times and his blunt nails dig into Dan's skin, hopefully leaving more physical reminders of the best sex Dan's ever had, before he's groaning something that sounds like Dan's name and coming. Dan whimpers at the feeling of Phil losing control inside him.

They're both panting and sweaty and have gross condoms to dispose of, but when Phil pulls out of him and pulls him into a cuddle, Dan feels more at peace than he thinks he ever has in his goddamn life.

"I don't want to leave," Dan whispers into the quiet, because he isn't sure if he's told Phil as much.

"I don't want you to leave," Phil says, pressing a kiss to Dan's damp curls. His arms feel so steady around Dan, not at all jelly like Dan's are. "But you'll be back when you can, right? And I go to Florida every year with my family, I can totally road trip to you."

With any luck, that won't be necessary. Dan is too fucked-out and sleepy to turn this into a Conversation, though, so he just makes an affirmative sort of noise and nuzzles into Phil's chest.

They can clean up in a minute.

\--

"Sorry, sorry, I know I was almost late, but I _promise_ I have a good reason for it -"

"You can't be almost late," Phil says, rather patiently for the time of morning it is in London. He looks tired, glasses on and hair an absolute mess, but he'd woken up just because Dan had asked him to. Dan can see Thor's nose, resting on Phil's thigh, and everything inside him wants to crawl through the screen to join them both.

Dan settles in the hotel bed with his phone, grinning at how cute they both look even through shitty FaceTime quality. "Still, I'm sorry. I know it's early."

"Yeah," Phil says, unable to stop himself from yawning. He gives Dan a sheepish little smile. "But I wanted to see you. How's L.A. going? Has anyone tried to lick you yet?"

"For the last time, you're the only person who has multiple stories of strangers trying to lick you," says Dan. He winks. "Not that I blame them."

The grin Phil gives him makes his stomach swoop. Dan wonders if it's ever going to stop doing that.

"Shut up," Phil says, fond. He shifts around on his sofa, getting comfortable, and Thor gives him a disappointed sort of look for the temporary displacement. "Sorry, buddy. But I'm serious, Dan, what's up? You've been stupidly vague."

"Yeah, I guess I have," says Dan. He lifts a shoulder in a lazy sort of shrug and puts his hand in front of his mouth to try and hide the ridiculously happy grin on his face. "I've been talking to producers all day, and it's been a fucking nightmare. Just got back to the hotel, I really did think I'd be back earlier than this and I could try to be early for once, but."

Phil blinks at him. "I thought you were on vacation."

"Don't you think I'd go to your place if I were on vacation?" Dan laughs. "No, I - I didn't want to get your hopes up. But like, here's the thing. I've got news."

Even Thor seems to perk up. Dan grins at his screen, wishes he could watch Phil's eyes go from their carefully guarded neutrality into something that's softer, more hopeful. Just for Dan.

"You've got news," Phil repeats. He bites his lip. "What kind of news?"

Dan had this whole plan to drag it out, make it all dramatic, but now that he's faced with the cautious optimism in Phil's face, he can't bring himself to do it. He laughs, rolls onto his side to get more comfortable. "Well, you can tell your mum I'm coming round for Christmas, for one."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and thus, my morosexual propaganda piece is done. this is the longest thing i've ever written and i wouldn't have been able to make it past the first chapter without all of you telling me how much i made you smile, since that was the whole goal in the first place! i'm blown AWAY by the amount of love you've all given me, and i'll never be able to express how grateful i am for it. thank you, thank you.
> 
> reblog the masterpost on tumblr [here!](https://dayevsphil.tumblr.com/post/188219966268/cant-breathe-when-you-touch-my-sleeve-59k)
> 
> edit: [ART?!](https://blue-draws-dnp.tumblr.com/post/188260123279/just-a-lil-thing-for-cant-breathe-when-you-touch) FOR MY FIC? AND A [PLAYLIST](https://templeofshame.tumblr.com/post/187907508150/cant-breathe-when-you-touch-my-sleeve-a-playlist)? WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS


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